


Turn Your Feet Toward Home

by kettish



Series: Biomes [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, but there aren't that many actually, fix-it AU, mind the rating I guess?, shit I can't remember all the kinds I added, so just uh, this was plottier than I thought it'd be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 03:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: When the Force speaks to them, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have no choice but to answer. Their home is hostile for others like them who long for companionship, and these two men have never been able to stand by and watch injustice occur.(Follows immediately after Komorebi)





	Turn Your Feet Toward Home

Wanting to change millennia of doctrine and actually doing it turned out, not unexpectedly, to be two entirely different matters. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon carried on in their roles as escort for the remainder of the trip, determined not to let their relationship be a detriment to the Padawans’ training. The evenings they spent together when they weren’t slated for duty shifts, and for a week Qui-Gon felt he was treading holy ground, blessed beyond measure to have everything he could want in his life.

 

But time marched on, inevitable as the ebb and flow of the universe, and the training retreat drew to a close. Obi-Wan was off assisting a team of teens with breaking down their tents properly and Qui-Gon was in charge of inventory tracking. He was ticking a batch of returned items off the list of things they’d arrived with when Master Hessia slid up next to him.

 

“We’ve got most everything,” Qui-Gon informed her absently, his eyes flicking back and forth between the gear laid out and the datapad in his hand. “Just the shelters and a few odds and ends I believe the Padawans may have accidentally packed into their own bags are left unaccounted for.”

 

“Efficient,” Master Hessia remarked, “I appreciate that. How is Obi-Wan handling things?”

 

“He’s demonstrating how to break down the shelters without damaging them, and then he’ll oversee deconstruction,” Qui-Gon replied, “I’d estimate another hour, maximum, before we can do final sweep.”

 

“That’s not what I meant, but also good to know--it’s lovely to have escorts assigned to this trip who have actually been on field missions in the least five years,” she admitted. “I meant, how is he handling your relationship being public? I know the students have teased him quite a bit. In good nature, of course, but…”

 

“Oh!” Qui-Gon said. “Oh. He’s doing fine. I don’t think it’s the younger set he’s concerned with, to be honest.” Master Hessia nodded.

 

“The old guard back at the Temple,” she commiserated. Qui-Gon nodded.

 

“Indeed,” he said. He let the hand holding the datapad rest against his thigh after a moment and sighed. “He’s concerned it will affect my career. I told him it was ridiculous, of course.”

 

“He’s not wrong,” she said with a frown. “I know you’re one of the best negotiators in the Order. You get quite a bit of leeway right now since you have kept in line with traditionalist mores.”

 

“Not intentionally,” Qui-Gon snorted. “I’m sure had I fallen in love with someone years ago, I would have--”

 

“But you didn’t,” Master Hessia interrupted. “I heard rumors about you and Master Tahl, but it never solidified.”

 

“She wasn’t comfortable with it, in the end,” Qui-Gon said. “We ended the relationship once it became clear that I wanted more than she was willing to offer.”

 

“Regardless, you’ve never thrown tradition in their faces like this before,” Master Hessia stated firmly. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but I’m concerned you don’t have a grasp of what the consequences might be. You and Obi-Wan clearly have a beautiful relationship, and I know we aren’t close, but I’m worried for you.”

 

Touched and irritated in equal measure, Qui-Gon settled for a small smile and reached over to gently grasp her forearm.

 

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I don’t believe the pushback will be severe. If it would help assuage your worries, might we send you a message if we find ourselves in need of assistance? If there is to be a fight, we will want allies.”

 

“I would be honored,” she said warmly, and smiled. “You know how to look me up. Now, back to business! We have Padawans to corral!” Qui-Gon watched her lope down the boarding ramp and off towards where Padawans were industriously disassembling shelters.

  
  


The flight back to Coruscant was cheerful yet subdued as the weeks in the wilderness took their toll on everyone’s energy levels. Padawans and escorts alike took advantage of finally having showers to be clean and then racked out to sleep for as much of the journey home as they could. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed their excellent example, foregoing intimacy for expediency and showering individually before falling into bed for a nice nap.

 

Their recovery time from field missions was shorter than the inexperienced students and teachers, however, so they woke feeling refreshed about six hours later. Obi-Wan did the calculations and they decided they’d only stay up for a short while before trying to sleep more so that they’d be back on Coruscant time when they arrived.

 

“It’s so quiet,” Obi-Wan marveled, “you’d never know how many teenagers are on this thing.” 

 

“You would if you checked the pantry,” Qui-Gon noted dryly, doing just that. They were in the galley, taking advantage of the calm to get a small meal before going back to bed. 

 

“Point,” Obi-Wan conceded, and sipped at his tea. 

They hadn’t again discussed how they wanted to go about making room in the Order and Code for relationships. Qui-Gon knew it was the will of the Force that they make the attempt. (“Do or do not,” Master Yoda’s voice echoed in his head; he doubted this was a situation in which the master had expected his adage to be applied.) Now that their duty to this mission was nearly discharged, and they were fed, rested, and had tea, the topic hovered in the air between them, demanding acknowledgment. 

 

Obi-Wan finally set his cup down with a sigh as Qui-Gon sat into the chair next to him with his scavenged snack. 

 

“How the hell are we supposed to do this, Qui?” he asked. Qui-Gon took a bite to give himself a moment to think and chewed.

 

“It must be done,” Qui-Gon said after he swallowed. “Besides the general attitude in the Temple towards those who choose relationships, what else can we change?” Obi-Wan frowned down into his mug.

 

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve been worried that acknowledging our relationship publicly would lead to more difficult missions, punitive tasks where your talent would be wasted. But that’s a difficult thing to prove.” Qui-Gon nodded agreement.

 

“Perhaps...we aren’t the ones who stand to benefit most from change,” Obi-Wan continued. Qui-Gon could see the wheels turning in Obi-Wan’s head, the flame licking at the edge of the paper.  At any moment it would catch fire and Obi-Wan would have an epiphany.

 

“Oh!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, and Qui-Gon smiled. “We aren’t! We need to poll.”

 

“Do you know enough people that it would be effective?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan’s friends and acquaintances were the ones they’d probably need to be in contact with most; Qui-Gon’s peers had for the most part either come to terms with the strictures or had left the Order.

 

“I think so, and if I don’t, Garen and Bant will,” Obi-Wan said. He picked up his mug and drained the last of his beverage before hurriedly standing to wash it and set it to dry. 

 

“I’ve got to go send out some comms; I’ll be in the cabin.” Qui-Gon leaned over, catching Obi-Wan’s attention, and Obi-Wan granted him the requested kiss before heading out to his work. Qui-Gon went back to his snack, ruminating. He had his own message to send later.

  
  


The Temple was as quiet as always when they got in. The hangar was noisy of course, busy with the sounds of vehicles approaching and departing and mechanics effecting repairs, but once they entered the hallway beyond the sound was muffled once more. Moreso was the feeling of quiet; the walls and windows were soaked in a sense of Light, soothing to the soul.

 

Qui-Gon loosed a near-silent sigh, pleased to be back, but his shoulders remained tense and he kept his hands tucked up his sleeves. Master Hessia’s warning nipped at his heels and kept him from relaxing completely.

 

Obi-Wan had lived with this feeling for months, he realized. No wonder the poor man had been so anxious of late. It was like being on a mission for months on end, and no respite in sight. Something brushed against his arm and he slowed, turning to look down inquisitively at Obi-Wan.

 

The man’s face was set stubbornly, but without the grim light of battle Qui-Gon associated with the expression. (Whether said battle was an actual fight, an argument, or a theological debate didn’t matter--that look was common to them all.) They stopped and Obi-Wan moved his hand off Qui-Gon’s arm, sliding it down to hold his hand under Qui-Gon’s.

 

Qui-Gon raised both eyebrows in questioning surprise, and Obi-Wan smiled.

 

“We must begin as we mean to go on,” Obi-Wan said, and took Qui-Gon’s hand. “I’ve spent far too much time pretending I’m ashamed of this, and I don’t intend to do so a moment more.”

 

Qui-Gon laced their fingers together, heart full as he bowed to Obi-Wan’s wisdom before tugging him forward to continue towards their apartment.

 

They walked more closely now in deference to their joined hands, and Qui-Gon felt a curious lightness at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hand in his here in their home. He was still somewhat nervous about their reception, in light of Obi-Wan and Master Hessia’s concern, but it was freeing to be home in all senses of the word. He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand and received pressure in return.

 

Odd looks and startled stares began following them almost immediately as they entered the more heavily-trafficked sections of the Temple. They didn’t acknowledge the few glares and outraged faces that were turned their way, but smiled or called greetings to those that smiled or seemed baffled. The tension began to wear on Qui-Gon’s nerves, even more than on dangerous or uncertain missions--or at least in a very different way, to which he was unaccustomed. Sweat collected between their palms and in Qui-Gon’s armpits, uncomfortable prickling letting him know he was perspiring, and he did his utmost to present a serene front. Finally they reached their front door and went in, and simultaneously collapsed onto the sofa with an ‘oof.’

 

“That was harder than I thought it would be,” Qui-Gon mumbled into the padding. Obi-Wan nodded, face smashed into the cushion.

 

“I’m sure it will get easier,” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon couldn’t hear it through the sofa, but he knew there was an uncertain tone in Obi-Wan’s words.

  
  


First things first. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had to file their report with the Student Advisory Council that governed Initiate and Padawan training. Then came unpacking and cleaning their gear, same as after every field mission; some teams left that for later, but most agreed that it should be done as soon as possible in case they were sent back out again sooner than anticipated. They brainstormed as they scrubbed their boots clean over a dropcloth in the living room.

 

“I sent out some messages,” Obi-Wan said, using the hard-bristled brush to try and get a bit of sap out of the treads of his left boot. “A few of my friends have been together or with someone for a few years now. They won’t say they’re committed in front of the Council, but they get as close to it as they can.”

 

“I also sent a comm,” Qui-Gon said, “My Master’s financial expertise would be extremely helpful. Nothing is free, and the most persuasive arguments against change will be based on the Temple budget.”

 

“Ooh, good thought,” Obi-Wan complimented. He eyed the tread he’d been scrubbing and, satisfied, set it down and picked up the other boot. Qui-Gon had already moved on to buffing his and his hands moved in quick, sure motions, stopping to check his progress often.

 

The door chime rang. Qui-Gon set aside his boot and padded to the entryway, palming it open to reveal Tahl’s lovely and amused face.

 

“Tahl,” he greeted, “Come in! We’re still unpacking.”

 

“I can smell,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose at the scent of boot polish and leather. “Home five hours and you’ve got the whole Temple talking.”

 

Qui-Gon winced. “That bad?” Tahl laughed.

 

“No, for the most part,” she reassured as they walked back into the living room. “Hello, Obi-Wan! I hear Qui-Gon has finally corrupted you.”

 

Obi-Wan bristled.

 

“He most certainly has not,” he snapped without thinking, and then stopped, catching up. “Ah. As a maverick, you mean. My apologies, Tahl, that was uncalled for.”

 

“We’re not all out to get you,” she said, and placed an unerring hand on his head to tousle his hair. He laughed and batted her hand away. “Ridiculous man. I came to see what you two are up to, actually.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve been together for months now, haven’t you?” she pointed out. “So why flaunt it now? I figured you must be trying to make a point.”

 

“We are,” Qui-Gon admitted.

 

“How the Order views relationships is wrong,” Obi-Wan cut in softly. He stared down at the boot in his hand, one thumb rubbing against a small scrape. “We both feel it. The Force is telling us that now is the time to make change.”

 

Tahl closed her eyes and was silent for a few minutes, digesting and reaching out to the Force to seek the veracity of his words. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan respected her need for meditation and worked quietly. When she opened her eyes, she seemed determined.

 

“Let me help,” she said, and Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose. Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly, echoing Qui-Gon’s curiosity.

 

“How so?” Qui-Gon asked, taking up his boot and rag once more. Tahl seated herself on the chair opposite him.

 

“The Jedi Order didn’t always discourage relationships and familial connections,” she explained. “It will be easier to argue against the restrictions if we know why they were created in the first place.”

 

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon agreed. It was a relief to hear someone offer support in such an extensive effort. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d be supportive, considering.”

 

“Considering what?” Tahl asked. 

 

“That we didn’t--I mean,” Qui-Gon suddenly needed to look at something else, anything but Tahl’s green-and-gold eyes. “When we were together…”

 

Tahl sighed and moved to sit next to Qui-Gon, putting an arm around him and pulling him close to her chest. He went, flummoxed but trusting, and she squeezed him tight around the shoulders. Obi-Wan looked on, curious and looking as if he couldn’t decide if he ought to be concerned that Qui-Gon’s face was pressed against her bosom.

 

“This is part of why we didn’t work out in the end,” she said after a minute. “You assumed, and I didn’t bother to correct you. I don’t think I’m made for relationships, Qui-Gon--I enjoy sex, and I enjoy having close friends, but anything more than that makes me uneasy.”

 

Qui-Gon looked thoughtful with his cheek pillowed on her chest, and relaxed down a little into her embrace, slipping an arm around her waist carefully. 

 

“I thought I simply wasn’t meeting your needs, and I couldn’t even discern what they were,” he replied. Obi-Wan sent him a wave of support and love over their bond, and it stemmed the rising flow of inadequacy in Qui-Gon’s heart. Tahl rubbed her chin against Qui-Gon’s head comfortingly and then let him up.

 

“No, you just didn’t realize that my needs were for less, rather than more,” Tahl said, reaching over to tousle his hair as he sat up. Obi-Wan set his boot aside and slid over into Qui-Gon’s lap, smoothing Qui-Gon’s hair back down and continuing to provide comfort.

 

“This would have been a lot easier to work out if we’d had some help,” Qui-Gon muttered into Obi-Wan’s chest, and felt an idea strike. He sat up straighter and looked up at Obi-Wan. “That’s something, isn’t it.”

 

“Training for the mind healers so they can mediate and assist with interpersonal relationships,” Obi-Wan said, grinning down at Qui-Gon. “That would be excellent. Force knows we don’t collectively have any idea how to do this.” Tahl laughed, leaning back to relax and nudging her feet against Qui-Gon’s shin happily.

 

“And I’ll investigate early Order stances on attachment and when they changed, see what I can find,” she contributed, and they all grinned at each other; they had a starting point now, and could move forward from there.

  
  


Unsurprisingly, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were soon scheduled for another off-planet mission. But surprisingly it wasn’t for another week, allowing the Jedi some time to rest and regroup. It had been a hard year for the two and the short reprieve was all the more welcome considering the changes they hoped to make.

 

“I got replies finally from everyone I messaged from the transport home,” Obi-Wan said first thing as Qui-Gon shuffled out of the bedroom on their second morning home. Qui-Gon grunted, not entirely awake and in search of caffeine and a shower, not necessarily in that order. He was not a morning person, unlike certain overly-enthusiastic redheads.

 

“Tea’s on the counter,” Obi-Wan called with a sigh, remembering this fact. Qui-Gon whimpered gratefully and discovered a hot mug of his usual before him. Picking it up, he slugged down half of it in his normal morning ritual, uncaring of the scalding temperature, and then wandered to the table to sip the rest of it down politely.

 

Fifteen minutes later a considerably more alert Jedi Master asked, “What did they say?”

 

“The mind healer training would be helpful, definitely,” Obi-Wan said, pulling up a list on his datapad. “Especially for those who have significant others outside of the Order; it’s difficult for Jedi to interact on an intimate level with those who have no Force sensitivity or training, it appears.” Qui-Gon hummed thoughtfully, lifting his cup to his face to enjoy the heat and scent. “That won’t be so difficult, in all honesty--we can dress it up as training for interacting with sensitivity to civilians. It’s the other things they mentioned that will be a fight.”

 

“Oh?” Qui-Gon asked, setting his mug aside in favor of giving Obi-Wan his full attention. Obi-Wan looked unhappily at his datapad.

 

“Leave for family emergencies, Qui. And maternity and paternity leave. Hell, maternity and children’s care, for those who aren’t in the Order at all. The Council is going to have fits.” 

 

Qui-Gon stared down at the tabletop, taking it in: that was a tall order indeed. It was one thing to try and change the culture surrounding relationships; it was another thing entirely to ask the Order to allot funds for those outside the Order.

 

“This is going to be a fight,” he finally agreed. Obi-Wan nodded, dismal. “I’m doubly glad I messaged Master Dooku, now. He’s one of the best in the Order with finances.”

 

“Master Dooku!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, drawing back in alarm. “Qui-Gon, he’s so traditional--”

 

“He will help, or he will not,” Qui-Gon interrupted serenely. “If he does help, all the better; if he does not, he will not hinder us either, as it is not his concern.” Obi-Wan groaned.

 

“Fine,” he said. “The last thing the people Bant and Garen were able to contact asked for was simple enough--recognizing marriages performed on Republic worlds, not just in a Jedi ceremony.” Qui-Gon looked alarmed instead of reassured, and Obi-Wan looked at him, bewildered.

 

“As an organization, we would legally be required to provide certain services if we did,” Qui-Gon explained, “many of the things your friends already requested, for example, but also health care for spouse and family, pay for those who are lost in the line of duty--it’s not just a matter of recognition.”

 

“Sithspit,” Obi-Wan grumbled as he slid down in his chair. Qui-Gon quite agreed. They both stared down at the table now.

 

“I’ll go talk to Bant today and see how we need to handle the healers,” Obi-Wan sighed, and Qui-Gon patted his hand consolingly. 

 

“I’ll go see Tahl,” Qui-Gon said. “We need to look up how the Order was originally excluded from present marriage law, and I’d like to see if she’s made any progress.”

 

“Make sure she’s eaten and slept too,” Obi-Wan joked. Qui-Gon snorted and squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand before hauling himself out of his chair and heading to the ‘fresher to get ready for the day.

  
  


Sadly, Bant was less than optimistic regarding Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s plans for the healers.

 

“There’s just not resources,” she explained over a set of discharge orders Obi-Wan tactfully didn’t look at. “Healthcare is free for Coruscanti residents so the Council doesn’t see why we need anything more.”

 

“Siri’s boyfriend isn’t from Coruscant,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “He doesn’t qualify.” Bant’s whiskers flicked irritably.

 

“I’m aware,” she grumbled, “but it still comes down to money in, money out. We can’t pull bacta out our asses, Obi-Wan, we have to pay for it.” Obi-Wan subsided, listening to the tapping of pen on ‘pad. 

 

“Do you think if the healer’s ward got an expanded budget, that money could go towards family care?” he asked after she was done. Bant shrugged.

 

“I’m not too familiar with the budget, but I don’t hear much grumbling over lack of equipment or materials. Might be a good sign,” she replied. Obi-Wan nodded and moved around the counter to bump his shoulder against hers. She bumped back, smiling at him with her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry to badger you about this,” Obi-Wan said. She bumped him once more for good measure, forcing him to take a step to the side.

 

“It’s good change, I think,” she confided. “So I don’t mind. Save it for after hours though next time!” Thus scolded, Obi-Wan ducked his head sheepishly and grinned before she shooed him out. 

 

“Go on, you’re not supposed to be here for once--take advantage of it,” she said, and he laughed as he walked out.

  
  


Qui-Gon was having no better luck. His Master was taking his sweet time returning Qui-Gon’s comms, and Tahl was buried hip-deep in old tomes. She refused to eat, saying she’d managed last night, and swore up and down that she’d slept just that morning, but Qui-Gon remembered dating her and had a feeling she was mixing up her days. Not a good sign so early in the project.

 

She’d managed to pinpoint the unspoken ban on marriage and family to the Ruusan Reformation, just after the Sith War. This was helpful in that the Reformation was thousands of years ago, and the Sith a long-distant threat. This was less helpful because she still hadn’t uncovered the reason it had been instituted in the first place.

 

“I should be getting close,” she assured him as her fingers danced along the page. Qui-Gon’s comlink chirrupped at him, loud in the midst of silent study; he winced and took it out, thumbing the volume as far down as he could.

 

“Jinn,” he answered, and after a short conversation he shut the comlink off and groaned. Tahl looked expectantly in his direction and he sighed. 

 

“We were supposed to have a week home, but something came up,” Qui-Gon groused, and Tahl snorted. 

 

“Always does,” she said, and patted his hand. “Best go get ready. I’ll have something for you when you get back.”

 

“Thank you,” he said and headed home. It was a good thing they’d already prepped their gear.

 

He met Obi-Wan at the door and leaned down to give him a swift peck on the cheek as they entered Qui-Gon’s quarters. They sat down to read the mission synopsis and decided what they’d need and settled on standard field gear, as they were due to negotiate the release of several Republic citizens from an Outer Rim world. The tricky part was that while the terrorists didn’t technically have their local government’s backing, in all real ways they did, which meant securing the citizens’ release would be a careful dance that might end in a forcible extraction.

 

They checked each other’s gear as they did before each mission, and they found no problems. There was just enough time to sign out of the Temple duty rotations and put in the normal mission requests, and then they were stepping back out the door and on their way.

 

“A week, my left ass cheek,” Obi-Wan grumbled. Qui-Gon knew he’d been looking forward to some rest and put an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. Obi-Wan sighed deeply and they slowed as he leaned into Qui-Gon’s support for a moment before straightening so they could keep to schedule. He seemed reluctant to give up contact altogether, though, and slid his hand down into Qui-Gon’s rather than separate completely.

 

A group of Padawans walked towards them, sliding towards the wall courteously so that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had room for their gear. They’d almost completely passed when a voice called out from the middle of the group.

 

“Get a room!” someone sneered. Obi-Wan stopped. It was a male voice, but Qui-Gon spotted a Gardant female, whose voice might be mistaken for a human male, and several actual human males besides. Rather than interrogate them and be late for their transport, Obi-Wan let the comment go and started walking again as Qui-Gon tugged on his wrist.

 

“Get a room, they said,” Obi-Wan snarled. “Shouldn’t have left the room in the first place! Every time I leave your apartments we get sent on a mission!”

 

“All will be well, love,” Qui-Gon said, offering serenity over their bond and comfort in the form of his thumb stroking the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. “They’re young, and still mostly informed by their Masters. Their attitudes and opinions very likely will change after they’re Knighted.”

 

“It’s still frustrating,” Obi-Wan sighed, and Qui-Gon felt him release his agitation at last. “There’s little we can say without starting a philosophical debate in the halls. Or decking them, which...is not a very measured response, and unlikely to help us in the long run.”

 

“We’ll just have to ignore them, then,” Qui-Gon said as an idea kindled in the back of his mind. “Perhaps...completely ignore them. Act as though we were in any other public situation.” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted as they walked out onto the landing pad.

 

“You mean, be even more obnoxiously smitten if someone complains,” he surmised. They grinned at each other, twin shit-eating expressions, and Qui-Gon felt a wash of appreciation for his beloved’s sense of humor.

 

“Exactly so,” Qui-Gon agreed, and tugged Obi-Wan so he could put his arm around his shoulder. Obi-Wan leaned into it smugly, glad to have reached such a satisfactory solution.

  
  


The mission was a chaotic mess of hostage extraction, long days spent loping along the short, grassy hills of the rolling plains, and fruitless negotiation. The terrorists executed two of the hostages before the Jedi even arrived, and despite all their efforts one of the planetary security officers assisting them died during the rescue operation.

 

It was awful. Qui-Gon only just managed not to drag his feet as they came back to their rooms once they’d returned to the Temple, and Obi-Wan wasn’t much better. They dumped their packs on the living room floor, shucked their clothes on their way to the ‘fresher, and helped each other wash before climbing into bed. 

 

Qui-Gon lay down lower on the bed than Obi-Wan, bypassing the pillows for once in order to tuck his head in against Obi-Wan’s chest. He’d seen death before, many times, and yet the echoes of it in the Living Force never failed to take something from him. Obi-Wan held him close; Qui-Gon could feel him doubting his own decisions with the hard lens of hindsight providing clarity.

 

“You did well, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon murmured against Obi-Wan’s chest. He heaved himself back up to the head of the bed so that he could reverse their positions, feeling Obi-Wan needed comfort more than he did. “It was a bad situation we were sent into, and we did the best we could. We should have been called in months ago.” 

 

Obi-Wan sighed and nodded, putting his arms around Qui-Gon’s waist. They fell asleep listening to the beat of each other’s hearts.

 

The next morning they both felt much calmer, the familiar scent and feel of their bed and home helping to smooth the rough edges off their experience. The comm unit flashed with unread messages and Qui-Gon sat down to attend to them while Obi-Wan rustled up a quick meal. They had been assigned the usual mind-healing session required after a mission had seen casualties, and still had their report to make to the Council.

 

“We’re both due at the mind healers’ at 14th hour,” Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan sighed, nodded, and handed Qui-Gon a sandwich. They spent the morning unpacking and cleaning until it was time to leave.

  
  
  


The mind healers’ offices were very...calm. Or they were intended to be, Obi-Wan had always thought. It fell short in his eyes, though: too sterile, too much like business offices. Not enough life or color. Regardless, he had grown to appreciate the post-mission debriefing sessions here, if for no other reason than a good excuse to rant about the terrible decisions he’d seen made before he had to be politic in front of the Council. 

 

Healer Gadrac was one of the mind healers Obi-Wan saw regularly in this debriefings, and he’d come to respect the small Chadra-Fan female immensely. She perched on a small chair by her desk, ears pointed squarely at Obi-Wan as they went down the usual checklist.

 

“Feelings of guilt?” she chirped.

 

“Some,” he admitted. Healer Gadrac had the uncanny ability to tell if he was fudging the truth. “We arrived too late for the hostages, but I feel I could have been more vigilant and avoided the security officer’s death.”

 

“That’s not unusual,” she replied, tapping on her ‘pad. “But I’ve reviewed your service records many times, and you are not an incautious or careless man.”

 

“Still, the feeling remains,” Obi-Wan said softly. She nodded, her ears flopping forward and then back again as she did.

 

“I would recommend reading your record and focusing on your successes, then meditating, maybe with your mission partner--” She stopped, sensing something from him, and tilted her head. “How is Master Jinn?”

 

Obi-Wan ducked his head, trying to hide his grin. “He’s well, Healer,” he replied, and Gadrac grinned, small sharp teeth shining in the office lights.

 

“You two,” she said fondly. “I need to send him a thank you note. He does half my job for me where you’re concerned.”

 

“You do quite a lot,” Obi-Wan reassured her, getting an idea; she chirped laughter and shook her head.

 

“With you two, perhaps,” she said once her laughter had died down, “you’re both adults, Jedi, and you had an excellent training bond during your apprenticeship! It’s difficult to mess up, to be honest.”

 

“So you have other patients who aren’t so gifted,” he prodded, and she frowned at him, ears stilling in what amounted to narrow-eyed expression.

 

“You know I can’t discuss other patients with you,” she said.

 

“No, no, of course not!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “I just meant in a general sense. Nobody in particular.” Healer Gadrac relaxed her ears at that and huffed.

 

“There are some,” she said. “I think most couples who need assistance don’t bother or know to come in--it’s not something we’re trained for, and while I can get by if it’s an issue between two Jedi, trying to counsel a couple where one person is a Jedi and the other isn’t can be very difficult.

 

“For example, just now!” she continued, “I felt something from you when I mentioned Master Jinn. Something had changed in your relationship that you haven’t spoken to me of yet. We both understand that my ability to pick up on that wasn’t intentional, and yet it happened; those who are untrained or who have little or no Force sensitivity see it as an invasion, where in reality it’s a passive detection, like noticing a strobe or a loud sound.” 

 

Obi-Wan motioned for her to continue, interested.

 

“And sometimes, a Jedi--especially Jedi who know their loved ones well--can even name an emotion before the loved one can, having seen it in other beings. Can you imagine how frustrating it must be, to be told how you’re feeling, maybe in the middle of a disagreement?”

 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Obi-Wan said. It explained a lot about his few negative interactions with those outside the Order, actually. 

 

“Neither had we!” Healer Gadrac said, waving an arm. “It took the department months to figure out, and we still don’t have much to go with as far as exercises to help the non-Force-users understand and integrate that sense into their relationships, beyond ‘try to understand.’ Makes me upset we had to skip that portion of our coursework.”

 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, startled. Gadrac nodded again, ears pinning back in a gesture similar to a human eye-roll.

 

“We do our initial coursework at the Coruscant University for Science,” she explained, “and then go on from there with supplementary material pertaining to the Order and to Force-users. But the semesters covering romantic relationships and their permutations are always skipped in favor of a semester at a sister university on Alderaan that covers other topics.”

 

“Just one semester,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Interesting.”

 

“What?” Gadrac asked. Obi-Wan shrugged.

 

“It’s not much of an investment, is it?” he asked. “One semester’s worth of tuition? I wonder if the university might allow you to audit the necessary courses.”

 

“Their classes are already full,” she said, “I’m not sure they’d be willing to make space for us.”

 

“Offer to trade, then,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Surely there are mind healers outside of the Order who deal with Force users or Force sensitive people; perhaps you could arrange a trade of information.”

 

“What a fascinating proposition,” Gadrac mused, and then shook herself. “But that’s for another day. I’ve let you lead me off-task long enough, Obi-Wan, let’s keep going on this evaluation so you can get out of here.”

 

Obi-Wan submitted gracefully, feeling very pleased with himself indeed.

  
  


They got their week, delayed though it was. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon enjoyed relaxing and spent their time unwinding. Obi-Wan enjoyed time in the training salles and visited Dex for the first time in months; the Besalisk was overjoyed in his rough way and tried to squeeze the life out of him. Qui-Gon was able to repot one of the plants on the balcony that was badly in need of it, and do a few other gardening tasks that he hadn’t had time to attend to lately.

 

It was refreshing to be able to wake up next to one another with time to waste, and they put it to good use in the form of long mornings spent in bed swapping kisses, touching, reveling in the warmth of sleep-soft skin. They took breakfast together in a leisurely fashion, spent their mornings performing the regular tasks of everyday living, and went to the refectory every day for lunch. 

 

It was second nature now to keep hold of each other, to lean into one another’s mass when they waited in line, and chat happily with one another or others or spend their meal in companionable silence. It was a more difficult task to ignore the muttered depreciations and stony glares from some of their fellow Jedi, but together they managed that as well.

 

Often Qui-Gon would hear something grumbled from behind or beside them as they walked the halls, and he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by some of the people expressing their disapproval; not many of them, but a few of them he’d thought friends. But a flicker of mischief would catch his attention in their bond and the next thing he knew, Obi-Wan would be leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek or would be looping an arm around his waist. The Jedi who had spoken out would often turn away in disgust, usually tinged with embarrassment, and Obi-Wan would watch them go with satisfaction.

 

The day that Master Yoda approached them in the halls as they left from their lunch was not so easily resolved.

 

“Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi,” Yoda called to them, his repulsor pod drifting silently down the hall in their direction. “A word, I would have with you both, if time you have.” 

 

They both bowed and followed him to the small garden that was set across from the dining hall for use when the weather was nice. It was slightly chill, as cold as Coruscant winters ever got, and the midday rush was over, so the garden was empty. Yoda led them to the back corner, where there was a modicum of privacy, and landed his repulsor pod with a sigh.

 

“Much controversy, you have stirred up,” Yoda said after Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had knelt down before him. “Know that enjoy such mischief you do, but come, the time has, to end it.”

 

Obi-Wan looked taken aback, and Qui-Gon’s eyebrows furrowed low in confusion.

 

“Master Yoda, with all due respect, we are not trying to cause mischief,” Qui-Gon said carefully. Yoda huffed, climbing out of his pod and stumping towards him.

 

“Sure you are of that?” Yoda asked. Qui-Gon frowned, beginning to feel insulted.

 

“My Master,” Qui-Gon said, voice low. He bowed deeply enough that the top of his head was within the old master’s reach. “We do only as the Force wills, as we must.” 

 

Yoda grudgingly put his clawed hand to Qui-Gon’s crown, accepting the implicit offer, and shut his eyes. The Master’s ancient Force presence touched Qui-Gon’s mind, sliding easily through Qui-Gon’s shields as he had been invited to do, and touched upon Qui-Gon’s conviction. Yoda grunted, intrigued, and then growled in exasperation.

 

“Know, I do, that this you believe,” he acknowledged when he was done. Qui-Gon straightened, subtly stretching the kink out of his back. “But prove the Force’s will this does not--merely your belief. Meditate on this, I will.” Qui-Gon nodded stiffly.

 

“Be more circumspect, you will,” Yoda chided as he climbed back onto his pod. 

 

“With all respect, Master, I will not,” Obi-Wan spoke for the first time since the conversation started. Yoda turned to him with a surprised look, ears tilting up.

 

“Knight Kenobi, what mean you by this?” Yoda demanded, pounding his gimer stick into the ground and leaning forward. Obi-Wan bowed low, lower than Qui-Gon had, in an obeisant posture. 

 

“Master, we are doing nothing here that would be considered unacceptable in public,” Obi-Wan said. “Are we to police ourselves so strictly in our own home? The Temple is meant to be a place of retreat and peace. I cannot be at peace while forced to leave my beloved unacknowledged.”

 

“Fine! Do as you will,” Yoda griped. “Meditate on this, you will: what fruits will your actions bear, Knight Kenobi? Attachment, the path to the dark side, may be.”

 

“Obsession, perhaps,” Obi-Wan called, still bowed as Yoda steered his pod irritably towards the door. “But not love. I will meditate, Master.” The door shut louder than Qui-Gon knew was normal, and he watched Obi-Wan sit up gracefully.

 

“Have you always been so bold, Knight Kenobi?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan gave him only a small smile as he stood, and Qui-Gon took the offered hand as he followed. “You might have been wiser to have listened only, and let him find his own conclusions in his seeking.”

 

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But I found I could not bear the thought of going back to how we lived before, with me sneaking in and out of the apartment at all hours, and being unable to hold your hand or express my support for you as your partner in all things, not just missions. No more. Not here in the only place I’ve ever called home.”

 

Qui-Gon had no answer for that, conflicted between respect for the Master who had influenced his training so deeply and the memory of the night the Force called him to service in this. Instead, he pulled Obi-Wan into his embrace and held him for as long as he could before they needed to go back indoors.

  
  


Perhaps the Council was tired of the disruption the two of them were causing, because only a few days later Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan found themselves being sent out on a rather dull mission by their standards. They were to go back to Cantonica, the desert planet they had visited before, in order to negotiate continuing excavation rights with the new government. Usually their talents weren’t spent on missions like this, where a less experienced team could be counted on to do the job right, which was why Qui-Gon privately figured Yoda must be sick of hearing about them.

 

“Let them hear about us,” he muttered, and on the transport bunk beside him Obi-Wan glanced up from his ‘pad. They were sitting side-by-side on the bottom bunk, reading their mission reports and enjoying their closeness. 

 

“I’m sure they’ve already heard, whatever it is they’re hearing,” Obi-Wan joked. Qui-Gon laughed and tilted his head to settle a cheek against Obi-Wan’s hair.

 

“I think Master Yoda must be tired of hearing complaints about our behavior, and he decided to get us out of the Temple again,” Qui-Gon explained. Obi-Wan laughed too, amused by the thought of the disgruntled little Master snatching up whatever mission came up first and jabbing their names into the “assigned” field.

 

“It will be nice to see the team again, though, and see how far they’ve progressed,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement and went back to his datapad, leaning into Qui-Gon’s side happily. Qui-Gon leaned back, communicating his own contentment, and put Yoda out of his mind in favor of catching up on how the current Cantonican government had been put into power. (Through guerilla warfare, it seemed, but that wasn’t unusual for Cantonica.)

  
  


The usurping government leaders had better things to take care of than a tiny archaeological dig in a patch of sand in the middle of nowhere, and the two Jedi were pleasantly surprised to have their paperwork stamped very quickly. They were shuffled back out of the capitol with a preoccupied message of gratitude and were soon renting speeder bikes to get out to the site. The warring parties in this area had agreed to an armistice, and though they had to pass through a small but thorough checkpoint on their way, they were in no danger. 

 

Air that was as hot as engine backwash rushed past them as they skimmed the sand, cracking their lips and drying their eyes, but soon enough they were approaching the dig site. Obi-Wan gasped, unheard over the roar of the bike engines, but his amazement was clear in the Force.

 

_ They’ve been busy! _ he sent to Qui-Gon, who responded with impressed agreement. 

 

The tower that had once been within jumping distance was now much farther up than the surrounding sand; it had been dug out, probably in part with the heavy equipment that was parked nearby. Other parts of the structure had been revealed, white building material that would help insulate the inside against the heat, and it was decorated with flowing lines of architecture that reminded Qui-Gon of the movement of the Force’s energy in a breeze.

 

A domed roof sat atop the squat, dug-in ruins, and a covered walkway extended forward over a set of steps where Knight Ho-tahn Geli stood waiting to welcome them. She waved, and Obi-Wan slowed his speeder bike to peel a hand off the throttle and wave back. They slowed further to avoid blowing sand up at her and then pulled up and parked, dismounting and shaking the ghost-vibration out of their legs.

 

“Knight Geli! Hello!” Qui-Gon called warmly and they shook hands before she pulled first him and then Obi-Wan in for a hug. Obi-Wan accepted it, laughing at her exuberance, and then they went back to park their bikes in the shade.

 

“You’re going to be amazed at what we’ve found!” she told them as she led them in through a large set of double doors. The entry chamber continued into a hallway, all in shades of cream, but their footsteps still echoed grittily. 

 

“We still haven’t found a cleaning droid that doesn’t burn out in a month,” she said wryly. Qui-Gon chuckled, observing the relief carved along the bottom and top edge of the wall. He asked her about a recurring motif he noticed, and Obi-Wan listened to the Knight educate his partner with contentment.

 

“Your team must be ecstatic,” Qui-Gon remarked, and Ho-tahn hesitated.

 

“Well, with our progress, yes,” she finally said. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both frowned, concerned. “Caleb is having a bit of a hard time, unfortunately. He’s been seeing a lovely woman back on Coruscant for a few years now, and she was in an aircar accident a few days ago.”

 

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan said. The sympathy in his voice was very much real; he couldn’t imagine being so far from Qui-Gon if Qui-Gon was hurt. “She’s all right, though?”

 

“There’s some long-term damage, the healers said,” she replied. “They’re confident it will heal and she’ll regain full independence, but for now she needs assistance with much of her daily life, and she doesn’t have any family in-system that can help.”

 

“She’s being assigned an assistant, then?” Obi-Wan asked, sensing more than that was wrong. Ho-tahn shook her head. “How is she going to manage, then?”

 

“Unfortunately, it seems she’ll have to try and make do on her own.”

 

“Caleb hasn’t requested reassignment to the Temple?” Qui-Gon asked, shocked, and the human female scowled. Deep frustration rolled off her in waves, and the other Jedi could feel her trying to disperse her anger before she replied.

 

“He has,” she said, “and the Council denied him. Said they weren’t going to shuffle the teaching assignment rotation just because he claimed he had some illicit lover who wanted attention.”

 

“They did what!” Qui-Gon exploded, voice thundering in the empty hall. Ho-tahn startled, but still shook her head in disgust. “How could they--they imply he’s lying to them? The Council, made of the most discerning Jedi Masters in the Order, can’t tell he’s being truthful and she is in need?”

 

“I don’t think they care,” she replied. Obi-Wan stared down at the ground, fists and jaw clenched. Qui-Gon snarled, then visibly reined himself in and took a deep breath. Obi-Wan met his eyes, communicating without words, and then nodded.

 

“That’s first on the agenda,” Obi-Wan said roughly. “Ho-tahn, where’s Caleb? We want to help with this.”

 

It was obvious she had questions, but instead of asking them she nodded and led them off deeper into the ruins. They passed Knight La Shey, who waved a white-furred hand from where she was sitting on a suspension seat near the ceiling as they continued in. 

 

“How did things go between you two?” Obi-Wan asked, casting out for a safer subject. He was angry, and so was Qui-Gon and Ho-tahn, but they were Jedi and needed to let it go out into the Force. Ho-tahn stiffened, then sighed, and Obi-Wan winced, thinking he’d obviously picked badly.

 

“They didn’t,” she said. “She isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone, even though I think it’s something she wants. Maybe not with me, honestly, but with someone. But she refuses to put her academic career at risk.”

 

Obi-Wan mulled that over as they went on, and finally they navigated a set of partially-crumbled stairs to reach a domed observatory, which had lovely open windows and at least a tonne of sand still lying about. Caleb was seated in one of the windows, lightsaber in hand, staring off into the distance.

 

“Guard duty,” Ho-tahn explained sotto voce. Qui-Gon made an understanding sound.

 

“Knight Semeni!” Obi-Wan called, injecting cheer in his voice. Caleb looked down at them and smiled, but even from the floor Obi-Wan could tell it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Hello, Knight Kenobi, Master Jinn,” he called back from his seat. “One moment, I’ll be right down--my shift was over ten minutes ago anyhow.”

 

He stood with care and then leapt to a partially collapsed column, and from there to the ground by Obi-Wan, who applauded. Caleb brushed the seat of his trousers off, feigning indifference, but Obi-Wan could have toasted bread by the heat of his blush. Same Caleb, Obi-Wan thought fondly, and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hello there!” Obi-Wan said, “You know you’re to call us by our given names! You’ve all made such progress since we were here last.” Caleb smiled shyly, and to Obi-Wan’s relief it was more genuine this time.

 

“It’s been a dream,” he said warmly. “I never thought I’d get to work on such a pristine set of ruins! In school…” he trailed off, and swallowed, then shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. Qui-Gon’s brow knitted in concern, and he reached forward to place a hand on Caleb’s shoulder in comfort.

 

“We heard about your loved one,” Qui-Gon said. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now, but we’d like to help however we can.” Caleb turned his face to the side, then looked back with a sheen in his eyes.

 

“We met in school,” Caleb explained, waving his hand. “She was the professor for one of my upper level archaeology courses, and a specialist in the field of ancient Jedi studies. I think I fell in love with her the first time she lectured, and after the course was over I asked her out.”

 

It was very romantic, Obi-Wan thought with a dreamy internal sigh. He wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, but then he saw Qui-Gon’s amused look from the corner of his eye and knew he’d been caught out anyway. He sighed out loud this time.

 

“That’s a lovely story,” Obi-Wan said. Caleb offered him a shy, watery smile. “So you two have been together for a while, then?”

 

“Five years now,” Caleb said. His happiness shone through his sorrow at his predicament like sunlight filtering to the bottom of a pool. “She’s been there for me, before, when I was hurt at another dig--broke a femur when I fell badly into an unmarked well, of all things!

 

“I should be there for her too,” he finished miserably. “But I can’t, not without disobeying a Council order. The Council would pull funding on every project I’ve been involved in, pending investigation, and substantially set back progress on my work.”

 

“That one on Endor is time-sensitive, as well,” Ho-tahn said with sympathy. Caleb nodded dejectedly and shrugged. 

 

“Sanei has a friend from the university who’s stopping by after work daily, but she’s been called out of town for the weekend,” he said. He was rubbing the hem of one sleeve between his thumb and forefinger, and left unsaid was the fact that Sanei would alone and unable to care for herself. “She said she’d be all right, but...her injuries…I don’t think she’s able to get around on her own yet.”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a glance. Their transport was due back in three days, but with Cantonica being a recent war zone, there were shuttles going on and off planet at all hours. If they canceled their planned transport they’d have funds available to hire a quicker shuttle, and could be back on Coruscant before the end of the ten. 

 

“She’d have to hire a medical assistant,” Obi-Wan said. “Does she have the funds for that?”

 

“No, but I do,” Caleb replied firmly. “I would have sent it to her already, but she can’t even make it to the door to let anyone in--how is she supposed to interview candidates? She was worried about being alone with someone she’d never met before, too.”

 

“That’s a reasonable fear,” Qui-Gon said. “We could come along with the assistant the first day or two, perhaps?” Caleb stared at him. 

 

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Confusion had him straightening his back and leaning in towards Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and reminded Obi-Wan that Caleb was actually bigger than Qui-Gon. 

 

“Well, we’re done here, honestly,” Obi-Wan explained. “We can find a faster transport back and help Sanei get taken care of before we’re due to report in.” Caleb tensed, hope dawning in his eyes as he stared down at Obi-Wan.

 

“I can get you the money at port,” Caleb offered. He was suddenly desperate now that a chance had been offered and was within his grasp, and he reached out to hold Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s arms. “Please, I have enough, what do I need to spend money on? She needs help.”

 

“Easy,” Qui-Gon rumbled, patting Caleb’s hand where it gripped his arm tight. “We can do this. Don’t worry. Let us have a nap and a meal and we can turn around and head back out.”

 

Caleb’s face turned guilty, and he let go of their arms as though he’d just realized he was holding them. 

 

“You don’t have to--you just got here,” he protested. Obi-Wan grinned, raising an eyebrow at him, and Qui-Gon’s mouth twisted as he tried to suppress a smile. “I just...I’m sure you…”

 

“There is nothing better we could be doing,” Qui-Gon said, cutting off Caleb’s stilted protestations. “Our mission here is completed, and your Sanei needs help. Let us help.”

 

“...I’ll drive you in the speeder,” Caleb said. “I can return the swoops another time; there’s no sense in wearing yourselves out with two runs in less than as many days. And you’ll let me know if you run over on fees for any reason. I’ll get it paid.”

 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed. Qui-Gon looked amused; he knew they’d do no such thing if they could manage it. There was no reason to tell Caleb that, though. 

 

A restful sleep and meal put them at well past nightfall, but they didn’t ask Caleb to wait; they could feel the desperation leaking out from behind his shields. It shimmered off him in waves like the heat of the sands they were flying across as they traveled.

 

There were several transports heading out within the next few hours, and Qui-Gon was able to secure one for no more than what the Temple would have paid their original pilot. They’d be reimbursed the full amount once they filed their receipts. Caleb spent almost fifteen minutes at a holonet console transferring money to Qui-Gon’s account after they’d all speculated on the amount that would be needed. Done, he turned back to them and reached out to pull them both into a generous embrace.

 

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered. He let a swell of emotion flow out to them in the Force: appreciation and gratitude, painful relief, and the old fear that one day he’d have to choose between his love and the Order, which was allayed for the time being. 

 

“It will be well,” Qui-Gon murmured, and Obi-Wan squeezed Caleb in support. Caleb nodded, then stepped back, pulling his emotions back to heel as a Jedi ought. Obi-Wan clapped a hand to his shoulder once more reassuringly and then they headed back to Coruscant.

  
  


The transport had been disgusting, but they were home now, Obi-Wan reflected with relief. He did so dislike grunge. Messiness was one thing, but having dirt and oil caked into corners and dust clinging in fuzzy clouds to equipment…? 

 

But they were free of it, and could air the staleness out of their robes on their way to Sanei’s abode. They made their way out from the Temple landing pad and walked along an aircab lane, winding through pedestrian-only alleyways and heading down several blocks. Heat radiated pleasantly from the sidewalk, leftover from the sun of the day, and the breeze from constant traffic would have been pleasant had the exhaust fumes not been so noxious.

 

It was peak traffic hour for both pedestrians and air vehicles and the sidewalks were crammed full of beings going in both directions, an organic match to the skylanes above. Obi-Wan could easily be lost in the crowd, if need be, and for that matter so could Qui-Gon; the heterogenous mix of sentient species on Coruscant offered much taller beings than either of them.

 

Sanei K’lba lived not far from the University of Coruscant in a single-bedroom apartment that was in a decent neighborhood for its altitude. Obi-Wan observed how clean and how well-kept the street and buildings were as they stepped into a lift tube. They got off at her floor and went to the correct door.

 

Caleb had warned them Sanei wouldn’t be able to open the door for them, and therefore wouldn’t be able to key them into the palm pad. This was not a problem; Obi-Wan could have rewired the door if necessary, but the interior palm pad on most doors didn’t register handprints, just pressure. Reaching out he molded energy into the shape of a hand and pressed it where he estimated the pad would be.

 

It swished open, and a startled, groggy cry echoed from the bedroom, followed by, “Who’s there?!”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan pulled their hoods back as they stood in the bedroom door, sending reassuring energy into the space between the woman struggling to sit up on the bed and themselves.

 

“I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan said with a respectful bow. “Caleb asked if we could help you find an assistant.”

 

“He--what?” she asked, mouth open. 

 

“Lady K’lba,” Qui-Gon said, “Knight Semeni told us you were injured and unable to care for yourself. He sent us to help you select a medical assistant, since he cannot be here himself.”

 

“Oh,” she said faintly. She let herself fall back slowly, and Obi-Wan finally saw her injuries: there had been obvious trauma to the left side of her chest around collarbone level and all the way over to her shoulder and the arm--

 

“You haven’t told him about the amputation,” Obi-Wan said, shocked. The arm was gone above the elbow, which explained a large part of why she’d been struggling to sit up. Sanei scoffed.

 

“I didn’t want him to worry,” she said with a sigh after she’d gotten comfortable. She winced before sighing again. “This isn’t actually what’s keeping me bed-bound; I hurt my back in the accident and the meds I’m on make me too dizzy to walk.”

 

“What do they do?” Obi-Wan asked, wondering if she could stop taking them for a while to regain some measure of independence. 

 

“Mostly keep me from writhing in pain,” she replied blandly. Qui-Gon snorted a laugh and then coughed to try and cover it up. Obi-Wan flushed and bowed.

 

“Apologies,” he said, “I won’t ask again, but we do want to help. Caleb said something about hiring an assistant while you recover. Did you have any prospects?” Sanei gave Obi-Wan another pointed look before her lips twisted wryly and she seemed to let her offense go.

 

“I haven’t been able to do much research, to be honest--I tried for a few days, but having only one hand and no special powers has made it difficult. If you wouldn’t mind helping me, though, I can look.” So Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon spent another few hours looking at holonet sites for possible candidates, then messaging them, and finally setting up two appointments for people to come by and be interviewed. Once done, they helped her clean herself and eat, then left what she'd need overnight within her only arm's reach.

 

They were leaving when Qui-Gon paused, and Obi-Wan stopped, looking back at him to see what was the matter. Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, contemplating something. His brow was low as he frowned, and then came to a decision. 

 

“Go ahead, Obi-Wan. I find I am uneasy leaving Sanei alone here all night. I will stay here until the assistant candidates arrive in the morning,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan huffed, then sighed, waving a hand at Qui-Gon. 

 

“I'll go get a few things and be right back,” Obi-Wan said. Fond exasperation mixed easily with concession on his face. “Stay out of trouble. Sanei, you're in charge!”

 

Sanei and Qui-Gon both laughed, but Sanei still sounded nervous. The door slid shut to the sound of Qui-Gon asking where the holocomm unit might be and if she’d like to talk to Caleb. Obi-Wan smiled; hopefully Sanei would feel safer after she had confirmation from Caleb. 

 

Early the next day they took Sanei’s banking information and transferred Caleb’s credits over, then held interviews. The two prospective assistants the referral company sent were both competent, but Sanei hit it off immediately with the female Nautolan. Her contract was signed right away and she would come back that evening to begin care.

 

“Thank you both for this,” Sanei said later, over a lunch of savory hand pastries from a food shop down the street. It was filled with a mixture of ground nerf, eggs, and vegetables, and had been one of Qui-Gon’s favorite meals as an Initiate. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been able to come. I got out of bed once the day my friend from work couldn’t stop by and ended up on the floor in the kitchen with no energy to get back to bed.”

 

They all sat there, chewing and ruminating over that bit of information and the way things could have gone worse. A fire, a break-in, even something as simple as choking could have killed her, alone and helpless as she was. Obi-Wan shook off the sense of possible negative futures and chose to focus on the present instead, as he had been taught.

 

“Caleb said he’ll be back in two months,” Qui-Gon said, finally breaking the silence. Sanei nodded.

 

“Once he gets back, we’ll set up a shared account, I think,” she replied. “I don’t know why we haven’t done it before. I don’t think our marriage is real to him, in a way, since it isn’t recognized by the Order.”

 

Obi-Wan spat out his drink and Qui-Gon choked. 

 

“Your what?” Qui-Gon asked after hacking back up the bite of pastry he’d inhaled. Sanei laughed, the first they’d seen, and Obi-Wan could see why Caleb loved her; already pretty, she was beautiful in her mirth.

 

“He didn’t tell you! Oh, I’m sorry, that’s hilarious,” she hooted. “I thought since he sent you, he would have said something! Oh, little gods, I bet he just forgot!” She leaned back, setting down her sandwich to keep from dropping it and so she could wipe a tear off her face. 

 

“He forgets this often?” Qui-Gon asked, her humor catching. He cleared his throat again against the last crumbs lingering in his windpipe, then took a sip of water.

 

“All the time!” she replied. “He asked me, mind you--but he forgets everything when he starts in on a project. I think it must be part of why he’s so good at what he does.”

 

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Obi-Wan asked curiously. She snorted.

 

“Not anymore. After he forgot his own birthdate for the third time running, I figured out it’s nothing personal.” She shook her head with a smile on her face. “It’s not like the Order would recognize it and give us benefits, anyway. From what he’s told me it’s probably for the best he forgets while he’s not here.”

 

It bothered Obi-Wan to think Caleb’s loved one found herself lucky to be forgotten--but he did not believe Caleb forgot about Sanei when he was gone.

 

“He couldn’t work when we arrived at the site,” Obi-Wan said. “Knight Geli told us he’d been relegated to guard duty because he couldn’t focus on his regular work.” Sanei’s good humor evaporated in a flash.

 

“He didn’t--Caleb didn’t tell me that,” she said. Obi-Wan shrugged, taking another bite of pastry.

 

“It’s true,” Qui-Gon said, taking a careful bite of his food. Sanei stared at them, eyes wide as she sat back carefully in her chair. A smile crept across her face until she practically glowed, tears and warmth in her eyes.

 

“Well,” she said. “Now I’m very glad you came.”

 

Another day passed, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stopped in once more to make sure that Sanei’s nurse had worked out. The Nautolan female opened the door with a bright smile, welcoming them in after Sanei vouched for them, and the Jedi could see that they were getting along well. Sanei was seated on the sofa, obviously comfortable and enjoying a holo.

 

As they walked home, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both thought deeply, barely noticing the other beings they wove around. As they entered the Temple once more, their feet touching down on hallowed, Light ground, they looked at each other.

 

“We report to the Council this afternoon,” Obi-Wan said.

 

“It’s definitely something we could fit into our report,” Qui-Gon mused, “as long as we made certain not to incriminate Knight Semeni.”

 

“That may be difficult,” Obi-Wan replied as he brought a hand up to stroke his moustache flat, a habit he’d picked up once he started growing facial hair. 

 

“But not impossible. And they won’t expect it at a mission report, as opposed to if we request a special session,” Qui-Gon pointed out Obi-Wan harrumphed, but it was thoughtful, and Qui-Gon knew he’d won.

 

“Fine, yes,” Obi-Wan said after the appropriate amount of faux-consideration had been given. It wouldn’t do for Qui-Gon to win right away every time. “I’ll get my notes together.”

 

They stood together outside the Council doors as they opened, refusing to blink against the afternoon sun streaming in one side of the domed room. Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon’s eyes, serene, dilate in the sudden sunlight, dark blue gone bright, and knew he was where he needed to be. Qui-Gon’s gaze slid to his for a moment, a minor tightening of the lines around his eyes hinting at a smile, and Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon felt the same.

 

As one they stepped forward and entered, bowing in tandem to the assembled Council members. Unlike a special session, there was only a third of the Council seated for regular mission reports. The other would review the session later by transcript, and any decisions requiring a full Council would be put off for a full assembly. Sitting today were Yoda, Eeth Koth, and Mace Windu.

 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon delivered their report in turns, as was their norm, and at the end began to carefully explain what had happened with Caleb and Sanei.

 

“We judged it necessary to cancel our Temple-assigned transport and instead pay out of pocket for a faster shuttle in order to assist Knight Semeni and his loved one,” Qui-Gon finished. “This could have been avoided with a simple change, which Knight Kenobi and I propose today: emergency family leave for all Padawans, Knights, and Masters with family of both blood and marriage.”

 

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Eeth Koth said with a raised voice:

 

“Surely you cannot even imagine--”

 

“Compassionate, this is,” Yoda interrupted. Eeth Koth’s mouth snapped shut with a click, and he and Mace Windu both stared at Yoda with wide eyes. Yoda instead gazed at Qui-Gon with sleepy, thoughtful eyes.

 

“Yes, compassionate,” Yoda repeated into the quiet. “Discuss this with the full Council, we will. For now, concluded your report is, Knight Kenobi, Master Jinn.” 

 

There was no arguing with that blatant a dismissal, but Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had already gotten more than they expected out of the session. Bowing once more with utter respect they retreated, satisfied to hear the three masters begin arguing as they left.

  
  


Home. Being finally home, with nothing on the immediate agenda, was a blessing from the Force itself. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan helped each other out of their cloaks and uniforms and stripped down to bare feet, leggings, and undershirts. Obi-Wan then made a beeline for the sofa, where he collapsed with a ‘wuff,’ and Qui-Gon drudged to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. 

 

After it had steeped and Qui-Gon had added his customary dollop of milk, he padded back out join Obi-Wan on the couch. They sat there together, decompressing, as though the weight of the last few weeks was finally lifted from their chests and they were refilling with good clean air. Qui-Gon sipped his tea, enjoying the heat of it and the scent he associated with comfort.

 

He was most of the way through his drink when he felt a nudge against his hip as Obi-Wan shifted on the couch beside him. Qui-Gon ignored him in favor of his tea, certain what was going on but unwilling to give up the last few mouthfuls of his drink. Another nudge, and the cushions shifted. Qui-Gon continued drinking his tea, taking time to appreciate the warmth of it sliding into his stomach and the way it felt against his hands. It wasn’t until he’d finally drunk and enjoyed the last bit that Obi-Wan tugged the mug away from him, a petulant sulk on his face, and set it aside.

 

As soon as the cup hit the tabletop Qui-Gon had a lapful of Obi-Wan, who draped himself on top of Qui-Gon like a blanket or a big cat. Obi-Wan sighed, and the last bit of tension drained out of his muscles, so that he was dead weight on top of his lover.

 

“You’re heavy,” Qui-Gon grunted. Obi-Wan managed to be even deader, or perhaps weightier; whichever it was, Qui-Gon felt even more squashed than before. “Get off, Padawan.”

 

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan groaned, throwing himself off of Qui-Gon and across the couch--and, somehow, back onto Qui-Gon’s lap. “Not your padawan anymore.”

 

“Obviously,” Qui-Gon agreed. “My Padawan would never be such a brat.” Obi-Wan stretched, his undershirt pulling out of his waistband and exposing taut abs.

 

“I have to disagree. Your Padawan was constantly a brat,” he said as he finished his stretch and looked up at Qui-Gon with half-lidded eyes. Qui-Gon hid a smirk.

 

“He was never! Didn’t you hear? He was perfect,” Qui-Gon teased. Obi-Wan huffed, scrunching a fistful of hair tightly with one hand and letting it go in a rudimentary scalp massage. Qui-Gon watched hungrily, wanting to do that himself but enjoying their play.

 

“Nobody’s perfect,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t know if you heard, but that perfect Padawan seduced his master.” Qui-Gon had to clamp down on a bark of laughter at the statement. It was both the truth and the farthest from it, since Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon hadn’t gotten together until a particularly cold mission they were paired for as a Knight and Master. But if this was the game Obi-Wan wanted to play this evening, Qui-Gon would play, and happily.

 

“I hadn’t heard,” Qui-Gon said with a grin. “How did he do it, do you suppose?” 

 

Obi-Wan smirked up at him, and slowly brought the hand in his hair down the side of his face, where he nipped the flesh of the side of it, and then further down to his vulnerable neck. It was sensitive there, and Qui-Gon well knew it, but he could have learned by how Obi-Wan stretched his head up, letting his hand caress more of the skin there. Down that hand traveled further, running fingers across his collarbone and teasing at the edge of his collar before continuing over the fabric to his chest. He located his nipple by feel, and pinched it once, slowly, and Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s ass and thighs clench at the sensation. 

 

Down, down, further his hand went in small spirals that must have felt lovely for Obi-Wan. He stroked to the middle of his abdomen, gently pulling the hairs there that led down to his groin, and then slid his hand back to the side to gently squeeze the small padding of fat and muscle on his hip. This elicited another pleased sigh from Obi-Wan, who finally slid his hand down his thigh and across to Qui-Gon’s thigh. 

 

Qui-Gon was certain he could have combusted at any moment from the heat in Obi-Wan’s gaze, and was beyond glad that he did not; he had things to do. He tilted his head slightly so that his hair slipped over his shoulder and regarded Obi-Wan, who watched the hair fall across Qui-Gon’s shoulder with a little shiver. Qui-Gon let the smile on his face grow wolfish, slowly, slowly, and leaned down and over.

 

He pulled himself partially out from under Obi-Wan’s legs and moved closer, into Obi-Wan’s personal space, and laid there, enjoying the closeness and the simmering desire between them. 

 

Then he dropped his voice low, just as he knew Obi-Wan liked, and asked: “Something like that, you think?”

 

Obi-Wan shuddered. 

 

“I’d imagine, yes,” he managed. 

 

“Oh good,” Qui-Gon said. “Here’s how I imagine his Master might have reacted.”

 

Obi-Wan shivered, a quick tense and release along his back. Qui-Gon inched closer until his breath was gusting warm against Obi-Wan’s skin and lightly set his teeth against Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan locked his muscles to stillness as Qui-Gon slowly closed his jaw, biting down until there was pressure, almost-pain, actual pain, and just beyond to the knife-edge of unendurable before letting go suddenly to drag his tongue wide up the indentations. Obi-Wan whined, on fire from just that one thing, and tried to catch his breath as Qui-Gon sat up without hurry.

 

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, deeply satisfied, and reached out to thumb the mark he’d just left. He slid his hand down across Obi-Wan’s chest, stomach, and to his thigh, letting his thumb run down the erection tenting Obi-Wan’s pants before stopping with it resting at the base, hand framing the whole thing.

 

“I think his Master would take his time,” Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan with a pensive tone of voice. “After all, if he’s already breaking the rules, he may as well make it worth it.”

 

Obi-Wan tried to talk but found his mouth too dry to say anything. He swallowed, trying to generate a little moisture, but Qui-Gon rubbed his thumb gently at the base of Obi-Wan’s balls, and Obi-Wan lost his words completely. He whined, then grunted in frustration when Qui-Gon laughed and refused to move further.

 

“Qui,” he said warningly, and Qui-Gon tsked.

 

“Uh-uh,” he reminded Obi-Wan, “Master. Being seduced by the perfect Padawan. Remember?” 

 

Obi-Wan felt a deep-seated jolt of lust and bit his lip to keep from groaning, then narrowed his eyes at Qui-Gon in suspicion. Qui-Gon remained, expression mild and thumb stroking gently where it was, and Obi-Wan’s suspicion eased. The problem at hand remained--how would a perfect Padawan seduce his Master? Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan thought back to the many, many fantasies he’d had of just such a thing before deciding to go with something simple.

 

He slid has hand over to Qui-Gon’s, then took it and pulled it off of himself with a thrill of pleasure as their hands passed over his dick--then he kept pulling, bringing Qui-Gon’s hand to his face. Obi-Wan slid his gaze from Qui-Gon’s eyes down, down to where Qui-Gon’s erection was trying to push free of his clothes, licked his lips, and caught Qui-Gon’s eyes again.

 

Deliberately exaggerating his movement, he opened his mouth and licked at Qui-Gon’s first two fingers, wetting them and then sucking them into his mouth with a tiny gasp. Obi-Wan shivered; it was easy to sink into this fantasy, where Qui-Gon was sitting dumbfounded for more reasons than Obi-Wan’s sheer bravado and where Obi-Wan was putting his all into this performance so as to tempt his Master into committing a moral transgression just this once.

 

“Ah--I don’t think this is, appropriate, Padawan--”  Qui-Gon stuttered at Obi-Wan’s completely wanton act. He could feel Obi-Wan’s submersion in the role and it was far, far too easy to remember him as his Padawan, when Qui-Gon had ached to touch and been unable to even look.

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid shut as he sucked Qui-Gon’s fingers, which flexed in his mouth as Qui-Gon pushed in a third. Qui-gon had washed his hands recently and there was a faint scent of soap, and it reminded him of the times he’d blown Qui-Gon after a shower. Hungry, Obi-Wan tried to suck them in further and was disappointed when they didn’t reach as far as he wanted. 

 

Qui-Gon wrenched his fingers out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, earning a disappointed cry from Obi-Wan, and crushed their mouths together, pressing Obi-Wan back into the couch. Thrusting his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth, he mirrored the movements with his hips, grinding their erections together so that Obi-Wan groaned with pleasure.

 

“What do you think you’re doing,” Qui-Gon panted when he came up for air. Almost too late he remembered to tack on, “Padawan.”

 

“I just wanted--Master, I want you,” Obi-Wan said, clutching Qui-Gon’s shoulders as he begged, “please, just once even, please take me!”

 

“I shouldn’t,” Qui-Gon said, then groaned again as Obi-Wan reached down to grasp Qui-Gon’s ass and pull him down against his cock. “Oh, Force…”

 

“Please,” Obi-Wan whispered, pulling Qui-Gon’s face closer so that Obi-Wan could lick and suck up the side of his neck, “please, Master.”

 

“No,” Qui-Gon finally ground out, and then drove his arms down under and around Obi-Wan to pick him up. He rolled them both off the couch and then carried Obi-Wan off to the bedroom while Obi-Wan continued rocking his hips against Qui-Gon’s stomach and nibbling just under his ear.

 

“This doesn’t look like no, Master,” Obi-Wan teased as Qui-Gon let him go to bounce on the bed. Obi-Wan was worried for a moment that Qui-Gon wasn’t kidding and actually wanted to stop for some reason, but then Qui-Gon was rummaging through the drawer where they kept lubricant and other niceties and Obi-Wan relaxed. Finding what he was looking for, Qui-Gon shut the drawer and hurried back over to climb back over Obi-Wan and kiss him once more.

 

“I meant what I said, Padawan--do you doubt me?” Qui-Gon asked, carefully worrying the mark he’d bitten into Obi-Wan’s neck earlier. Obi-Wan tried to speak and Qui-Gon scooped him up by his hips to grind into him more fully, and once again Obi-Wan was interrupted. 

 

It would be irritating if weren’t so delicious, Obi-Wan thought, and huffed and threaded his hand into Qui-Gon’s hair to keep him where he was. Contrary, Qui-Gon pulled down and out of his hold so he could sit up and begin stripping Obi-Wan of his clothes.

 

“Still doesn’t seem like a no, Qu--Master,” Obi-Wan replied, taking his time to watch Qui-Gon pull his tunics over his head, the muscles pulling and bunching. Mouthwatering, he thought, his eyes fixed on a brown nipple, and before Qui-Gon could pin him back down he lunged up to take it into his mouth.

 

“Oh fuck--Obi,” Qui-Gon gasped, startled. He was unable to help a weak thrust at the feel of warm/wet/suction at his chest and he tangled in his shirt as he tried to get his hands down to do...something. Definitely something. Keep Obi-Wan from moving, maybe.

 

“Master,” Obi-Wan murmured against Qui-Gon’s chest before going back to sucking and tonguing his nipple, and Qui-Gon remembered he had had a plan. He untangled his arms with effort and spent a moment just enjoying himself and the way Obi-Wan was writhing slowly on the bed below him with his arms tight around Qui-Gon’s waist. With impeccable control, he managed to lower them both to the bed, finish undressing himself, and call the lube he’d retrieved a minute ago back to his hand.

 

Obi-Wan was restless now that Qui-Gon was on top of him again and he was moving steadily, thrusting up against Qui-Gon’s hip and encouraging Qui-Gon to thrust down as well. Qui-Gon ignored him, and instead flipped the top of the lubricant open one-handed and brought it to his mouth. Squeezing a little out was complicated, since he didn’t want to drip it onto Obi-Wan underneath him, but then Obi-Wan’s hand was helping him and grey-green eyes were smiling from below.

 

“Here, let me just get these off,” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon clamped down onto him with his thighs, holding him still.

 

“I meant what I said, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, and had to suppress his smile when understanding dawned on Obi-Wan’s face.

 

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan breathed. Qui-Gon’s dick throbbed at his words and tone, so Qui-Gon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and tilted his hips so that he could reach back and stretch himself.

 

Obi-Wan let his hands wander, sliding them over skin while Qui-Gon worked to make himself open for Obi-Wan’s cock. It was relaxing and set his skin tingling in much the same way a flame slowly creeps across newly lit wood. Qui-Gon was dry tinder, going up in a bonfire.

 

“All right,” he said finally, as ready as he could get. Obi-Wan made to shove his leggings down, but Qui-Gon only let him pull them down far enough to free his erection before he shifted over Obi-Wan and lined them up. He rocked down onto Obi-Wan’s cock in sure movements, the incremental motion familiar to them both, and when he was seated against Obi-Wan’s hips, he shivered and drew in a deep breath. 

 

“Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. His hands rested on Qui-Gon’s waist, his thumbs rubbing back and forth as he did his best to wait patiently. The blissful look on Qui-Gon’s face was unbelievably beautiful and so erotic Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he was allowed to see it. Qui-Gon opened his eyes lazily, like he had never been more comfortable in his life, then leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan.

 

Mid-kiss he started moving. It took the breath out of Obi-Wan’s lungs and Obi-Wan gasped and then groaned breathlessly, certain he was going to die because nothing was supposed to feel this good. Qui-Gon went on, hips rising and falling; when Obi-Wan noticed Qui-Gon’s hips hitching at the same point each time, he grasped Qui-Gon’s hips to help move him smoothly. Qui-Gon’s groan rumbled deep and long in his chest, which shone with sweat, and his cock jumped as Obi-Wan helped him reach just the right angle to stroke his own prostate with each pass.

 

It was still unbelievable at times, that they could do this: Qui-Gon was naked and riding him, and Obi-Wan was still almost completely dressed on the bed fucking up into his (former) Master. Obi-Wan thought feverishly that he would have given almost anything for this when he actually was Qui-Gon’s Padawan, and in his head the two scenarios blended and suddenly he was crying out, pushing up into Qui-Gon to get as deep as he could as he came, spending himself inside his beloved.

 

Qui-Gon took himself in hand and, speeding up his riding while Obi-Wan held onto his erection as long as he could, and before long he was coming too, hunching over as his orgasm was drawn out of him. His semen pooled on Obi-Wan’s chest and stomach in the dips between his muscles; when he was done, Qui-Gon sat with his cock in hand, the other supporting his weight, and tried to catch his breath.

 

“Gods,” Obi-Wan said, dazed. Qui-Gon agreed, then pulled himself together and tipped sideways, letting Obi-Wan’s cock fall out of him and doing his best to keep from making a large wet spot on the bed.

 

“Just a minute, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, and rolled himself out of bed. He fetched a warm, wetted rag and offered it, and took it back from Qui-Gon when he’d finished to dispose of it properly. Cleaned up, they wrapped themselves around each other and fell asleep, content and tuckered out.

  
  


The next morning they decided to go have breakfast in the refectory, as they didn’t yet have any fresh goods in their apartment. They were strolling down a hall towards their meal when a light pattering registered to Obi-Wan’s ears. He turned, Qui-Gon looking back in question, and saw Healer Gadrac dashing along to catch up with them.

 

“Knight Kenobi, Master Jinn!” she squeaked, and fell to a light jog. Once she caught up with them she smiled up, panting open-mouthed. “So good to see you looking so well. Good news!”

 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, mystified. They weren’t on probation, they’d made their appointments on time…

 

“C.U.S. has agreed to let us audit our missed classes!” she announced. She grinned broadly, sharp teeth shining as she put her tunics back to rights and adjusted her obi.

 

“What has?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan broke out in a broad smile and reached down to gently clap a hand to her shoulder.

 

“Coruscant University of Science, Qui. That’s wonderful, Healer!”

 

“Come now, we’re talking outside of a session--Teklit is fine,” she said, beaming. “And it is! All we need now is Council approval, and I don’t see why it would be an issue--it will cost the Order nothing, and can only improve our ability as healers.” At this, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a loaded glance, which Teklit picked up immediately.

 

“What,” she asked sharply. Her ears swiveled between the two of them, and her mouth hung open slightly as she read the pheromones they unconsciously emitted. It told her there was an issue, but not what. “What’s the problem?”

 

“We’ve been pushing for rights and support for Jedi who choose to enter committed relationships,” Qui-Gon said. Teklit’s ears relaxed slightly as she processed, and then twisted back irritably.

 

“You think they might see it as a political issue,” she guessed. Obi-Wan nodded, sad to see her cheerful mood disappear. “Well, fuck.”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s jaws dropped and they stared at her, aghast.

 

“What? I’m off duty,” she said. Obi-Wan shook his head.

 

“Nothing at all,” Qui-Gon replied, shaking his head as well. Teklit huffed, a slight sound despite the effort she obviously put into it, and then shook her fur.

 

“Well, I didn’t put all this work into it for nothing,” she said ominously in her small voice. “They’ll approve it or I’m going to riot, you wait and see. Excuse me, gentlebeings, I have people to go talk to--we need to tailor our proposal to the current political atmosphere, apparently.” And she stormed off, a tiny, fluffy, terrifying ball of energy.

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood there, letting the world settle after having it shaken. 

 

“She’s so nice in sessions,” Obi-Wan said plaintively. Qui-Gon nodded, older and wiser in the ways of mind healers. Mulling over the mystery of on-duty versus off-duty personas, they continued walking towards breakfast.

  
  


Qui-Gon received their next mission briefing on his comm unit the next day around lunch, and they began their preparations. Their gear was clean and packed already but they added a few items that would be useful in the temperate desert environment of Nusnora. A small tarp and foldable poles made up a portable sun shelter, and they also had a tiny moisture vaporator--the atmosphere on Nusnora was more humid than Cantonica, and the little device would work.

 

As they headed towards the hangar bay to get on their transport, holding hands despite the fact that it still made them sweat and they could still feel stares burning into their backs, something shifted.

 

A pair of Knights walking the opposite way saw them, looked down at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s joined hands...and slowed to look at each other. To Obi-Wan’s astonishment, one Knight reached her hand out to the other, who accepted it with small, warm smile. The Knights walked past, giving Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon a short nod, and disappeared around the next corner as they went on their way.

 

They had a transport to catch, and no time to spend celebrating, but Obi-Wan could cherish the rising warmth in his chest as he tried to keep the tears from his eyes. Qui-Gon squeezed his hand, and they boarded, feeling privileged to have helped even one other Jedi.

  
  


Nusnora was, yes, very hot. Unlike Cantonica, where relief could be found in the shade, Nusnora was hot everywhere--in sun, in shade, indoors, outdoors. The moment the shuttle door opened, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were hit with the humidity like a hot wet wall, and Qui-Gon had yet to stop sweating. It was very uncomfortable in their robes and uniforms and with Qui-Gon’s long hair, but Qui-Gon comforted himself with the knowledge that sooner or later they’d leave and go home.

 

Obi-Wan’s face was flushed and sweaty, and Qui-Gon felt a moment of dissatisfaction that it wasn’t for his favorite reason. Then he shook the thought off and focused on their work. 

 

This was routine work for Jedi--once again, they were brokering a peace treaty between two nations that had the will but not the know-how to accomplish it. It was a simple week of negotiations, and then they were set to go home. As they packed up to leave, doing a quick scan of their rooms to be sure they’d left nothing behind, a call came in on the comm unit and they received instructions to divert two systems over for a small investigation involving a planetary reinforcement agency that was possibly confiscating goods from innocent off-world civilians to fund itself (and the legislators who supported it). 

 

Then there was a small pirating group that needed to be taken care of, and after that was a coronation ceremony on a small, nondescript planet, and so on until it was six weeks since they’d been in the Temple.

 

The Council finally ran out of errands for them to run, and they made it back to Coruscant a few days later. By midmorning they were disembarking from the latest in a long line of transport shuttles and trudging towards their apartments. 

 

“Almost there,” Qui-Gon muttered to Obi-Wan when Obi-Wan’s feet began to drag. “Stay with me, Padawan.” Obi-Wan growled, but the dig worked as intended, and his back straightened from the slump it had slid into. 

 

“Padawan. I’ll show you Padawan,” Obi-Wan grumbled. Qui-Gon did his best to hide his amusement but had to focus instead of not mowing over a herd of Initiates that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in front of him. Obi-Wan snickered and didn’t even have the grace to hide it. Qui-Gon bided his time until they were passing through the indoor Endor meditation gardens, and then used the Force to nudge Obi-Wan sideways into a large, damp pile of moss and fern fronds. Obi-Wan went down flailing and screeching pure outrage.

 

Qui-Gon stopped, staring down at his lover and partner, and felt hysteria creeping in. He had a stray thought, and it startled him into chuckles, then laughter, then full-on guffaws, and it he couldn’t stop laughing until he had tears leaking from his eyes. Obi-Wan had been glaring at him initially, but as Qui-Gon kept laughing, his glower transmuted into fond, exasperated amusement.

 

“Do I look that ridiculous, then?” he asked dryly when Qui-Gon wound down. Qui-Gon had to work hard to get his answer out between exhausted giggles.

 

“No, just--you seem rather--rather  _ frond _ of that plant, Obi-Wan,” he finally managed, bent over with his hands on his thighs, and then started laughing again.

 

Obi-Wan burst into laughter, incredulous and absolutely brim-full of glee at his master’s ridiculous joke. They laughed for ages until the sound of running footsteps pattering up the path brought them to a sudden stop. Knight and Master looked at a young, blond Initiate that came skidding to a stop in front of them, looking bewildered between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, arrayed across the path, dirty, beyond tired, and flushed. 

 

The Initiate looked at Qui-Gon with wide eyes, and then at Obi-Wan, and they felt a clumsy investigative sweep of the Force across their shields. The Initiate apparently decided he wasn’t prepared for whatever he felt and backed up, creeping silently backwards around the corner he’d just rounded at a sprint until he was gone.

 

The door to the greenhouse swished open and shut again, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon looked at each other before bursting into laughter once more.

  
  


A solid ten hours of sleep, a shower, and two hot meals (including tea), and they were well-rested enough to feel a little bad about scaring the daylights out of the Initiate. Poor young thing had probably just been running messages, as that was the only acceptable reason an Initiate would be running and alone in the Temple, and he’d most likely had to take a longer route in order to avoid the crazy Jedi in the Endor gardens. Obi-Wan had almost decided he’d go track the Initiate down after they reported to the Council when the Force provided him an opportunity.

 

Qui-Gon was making his way to the kitchen with his usual pre-caffeinated energy (none) when the doorbell rang, and he shuffled over to it before Obi-Wan could get up from the table. Decades of habit had the older man belting his robe tightly at his waist before he hit the palm pad, and he stared out at the hall as the door slid open. Obi-Wan watched with barely contained laughter as the Initiate they’d seen before cleared his throat and Qui-Gon startled, staring down at the boy like he’d thrown a brick at his head.

 

“Master Jinn?” the boy asked. Qui-Gon cleared his throat, and Obi-Wan felt the minor Force manipulation that Qui-Gon used in (very rare) situations like this--a miniscule stimulation of the adrenal gland, and he was awake and alert. Obi-Wan sighed; Qui-Gon would be irritable for a while after it wore off.

 

“Healer Gadrac wants to see you before your Council appointment, please, she said,” the boy recited, and then bowed. Then he was scampering off, and Obi-Wan groaned as he realized he’d have to go track the kid down later, since he’d wasted his chance at apologizing without leaving the apartment. Qui-Gon let the door swish shut and then leaned forward to thunk his head against it. Obi-Wan’s lips quirked, and he turned to take up Qui-Gon’s mug of tea. He walked to him and pressed his arm against Qui-Gon’s to make his presence known, and then pushed the mug into his hands gently.

 

“Thank you, love,” Qui-Gon rumbled, accepting it and taking a long draught, uncaring of the scalding temperature through long years of experience. Obi-Wan indulged in a moment of ribald amusement, thinking that must be how Qui-Gon had desensitized the back of his throat so thoroughly. Qui-Gon shot him a look from the side of his eye, and Obi-Wan snapped his face into one of perfect innocence.

 

“Go drink your own tea,” Qui-Gon finally grumbled, his lips turned downward sternly but with a tiny upward tilt at the corner. Obi-Wan blew him a cheeky kiss and went back to the kitchen. Qui-Gon set his tea on the low table in front the sofa and sat down heavily, groaning.

 

“You heard the boy?” he called to Obi-Wan. From the kitchen there was the sound of a cooking pot being scraped empty and then the water running from the tap in the sink; Obi-Wan entered the dinette, where their small table sat in its nook, and set down two bowls of cooked grain. 

 

“I did. I wonder what she wants? We saw no fatalities, even with the pirates,” Obi-Wan replied with a raised voice so Qui-Gon could hear him easily from the sofa. “Come on. Breakfast.”

 

“Be there in a moment,” Qui-Gon said, and took a few minutes to himself to finish his tea. Done, he returned to the kitchen and refilled his mug before sitting down at the table across from Obi-Wan.

 

“Well, our gear needs only light cleaning and repair. We can go take care of whatever she needs, then see to our work,” Qui-Gon suggested. 

 

“Sounds good,” Obi-Wan agreed. “You’re doing lunch though.”

 

“So the refectory it is,” Qui-Gon said dryly. Obi-Wan laughed, leaning down to take a bite. He’d added tart red berries to his grains with sugar and milk to cut the tartness of it, one of his favorite preparations. Qui-Gon took his with powdered cinnabark and dark sugar, and just a little milk, or a lot of milk and honey, depending on his mood and the weather. 

 

They ate efficiently but without rush, and then readied for the day quickly; there was a lot to do and never seemed to be enough hours to do it all. Once they were dressed they made their way through gardens and halls to the mindhealers’ ward. Obi-Wan signed them in on the provided holonet unit and tapped the button to send Healer Gadrac a notice that they had arrived, and then sat down by Qui-Gon to wait.

 

Barely five minutes had passed before the tiny healer came rushing out, shooing an alarmed Knight out the door in front of her with a “you’re fine, but if you think otherwise please feel free to make an appointment or stop in, good luck on your next mission!” and grabbed one of their hands each and dragged them bodily back to her work area. Qui-Gon went easily, serene despite being towed behind a being a third his size, while Obi-Wan sputtered and pulled, nearly hissing like a sand-cat stuck in a trap.

 

“HEAler--what are you--”

 

“Come ON, Obi-Wan,” she cut him off, using a small amount of Force-enhanced muscle to pull him along faster. Qui-Gon tried his best not to laugh as Obi-Wan managed to pull the edge of his tunics free, only for the Healer to snap a hand out and anchor him with a secure grip on his belt. She kicked at her door a few times, wrestling Obi-Wan, until Qui-Gon gently pried free her grip on his own tunic and pushed her hand towards the palm plate.

 

“Oh, much obliged,” she said, and dragged Obi-Wan the rest of the way into the room. Qui-Gon followed, highly amused, and Obi-Wan caught the look on his face. Chagrined, Obi-Wan stopped fighting, straightening slowly and going where he was directed. 

 

“Finally! You’d think I was taking you to be gelded,” the Chadra-Fan muttered, taking her hand off his belt and clenching it a few times to stretch and restore blood flow. Obi-Wan flushed.

 

“I’m sorry, Healer,” he said. “Usually when I’m being hauled off somewhere, it’s not good.” 

 

“This isn’t an appointment, it’s about what we talked about before you two left,” she said, impatiently waving off his formality. “There have been some developments you need to be apprised of before you see the Council this afternoon for your report.”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stilled, paying complete attention to her. She grinned, sharp little teeth gleaming and white.

 

“After you left, I saw the Council and as you warned, they’d turned it into a political battle. Half the Council was on board with our plans, and the other half thought it was a foolish waste of time, better spent...doing...something? They didn’t clarify.

 

“Regardless, I gave them a dressing-down they won’t soon forget; several of them could have benefited from their healers having that training, and they want to tell me it’s useless? Pah! No. So I said my piece, and we debated for quite some time. It looked like the stubborn old conservative bastards were going to win and I was going to be turned down.”

 

“What changed their minds?” Qui-Gon asked. Teklit’s sharp smile widened.

 

“I used the nuclear option. I reminded them that we have married Jedi in the Order, and that it’d be a shame if anyone discovered the Order wasn’t meeting their legal obligation to provide adequate counseling services for them,” she said, “or any of the other required items, such as emergency leave for spouses, or healthcare for their families.”

 

Shocked silence reigned. 

 

“What...did they say to that?” Qui-Gon asked. The healer continued to smile smugly. “Healer Gadrac?”

 

“Teklit,” she corrected before dropping the figurative bomb: “They granted my proposition, and I heard from one of the Council members off the record--they updated the Order bylaws. Any members who are married on a Republic world can have their union recognized if they request it.”

 

“...So...if we got married, and one of us was hurt…” Qui-Gon asked, halting. It was something he’d always told himself was for civilians, for people who could afford it. Not for Jedi. Jedi sacrificed--it was what the Force required of them. What the Order required.

 

“You’d be excused from your current mission if possible without causing immediate injury, and brought back to your partner until they’re stable,” Teklit said. Her ears and nose twitched, and she peered at them, and her eyes and smile softened.

 

“This is happening,” Obi-Wan said. He sounded dazed. Qui-Gon nodded, feeling the same.

 

“You and I and others are making this happen,” Teklit said, shoulders back and eyes shining. Then her grin turned sharp and amused again. “At any rate, I thought perhaps this was information you might like to have before you gave your report this afternoon, since in order to receive benefits for being married, it has to be declared before the Council.”

 

Qui-Gon startled, turning towards Obi-Wan.

 

“Is that even something you’d--” he began to ask, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

 

“Did you hit your head and didn’t tell me? Because a concussion is the only excuse I might accept for you not knowing my answer is yes,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon grinned, helplessly happy, and reached over to grasp Obi-Wan’s hand tight. Obi-Wan smiled back, enchanted with the light in Qui-Gon’s eyes, hardly able to believe their luck.

 

Teklit cleared her throat, a little squeaking cough that reminded them they weren’t alone. They jumped, jolted out of their romantic reverie, and looked at her as though they’d completely forgotten she was there.

 

“Gentlebeings, might I suggest adjourning to your own quarters before going any further with all that?” she said. For once, Qui-Gon was the one who blushed, his ears going bright red, and he stood hastily, pulling Obi-Wan along. 

 

“Thank you for letting us know, Teklit, but we have gear to repair and a report to deliver later, we really must be off,” Qui-Gon rattled off with a quick, graceful bow, already exiting the room, and Obi-Wan followed, shaking with laughter. Teklit just squeaked laughter, leaning back in her chair with the force of it and waving goodbye.

 

Qui-Gon would have dragged Obi-Wan the entire way home if he’d had to, but Obi-Wan was just as eager to be alone as he was, and went willingly until they were nearly jogging down the halls. They made it back to the room and dodged their neighbor, who rolled their eyes with indulgent affection as Obi-Wan slapped his palm into the palm plate and they dashed inside.

 

“Crazy guys,” the neighbor said fondly, continuing down the hall with their laundry.

 

Inside, Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan and swung him up against the wall as soon as the door had slid shut. He leaned in to kiss him hard, sliding his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth over lips and teeth. Obi-Wan wasn’t a passive participant, and held Qui-Gon by the waist, holding him close and pressing their hips together in a rough slide. Glorious pressure against his groin, wet heat in his mouth, and Obi-Wan’s free hand tugging open his uniform set Qui-Gon’s world afire, his vision and focus narrowing to touch and taste alone.

 

They broke off for air and Qui-Gon panted, his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, trying to catch his breath and failing as Obi-Wan continued slowly rutting against his thigh.

 

“Marry me,” Qui-Gon groaned.

 

“Force, yes,” Obi-Wan answered, his voice equally rough. Sweat had begun to shine on his face and Qui-Gon felt it with his fingertips as he cupped Obi-Wan’s face with his hand. Obi-Wan stretched up to kiss him, tender with all the emotion he could convey. When he pulled back, Qui-Gon leaned down for more, and soon they were headed for the bedroom. 

 

The gear did get cleaned and repaired before the Council report, but it was more hurried than usual.

  
  


They appeared before the Council in their formal whites, which alarmed Master Windu and made Masters Tinn and Poof study them as one would a particularly testy gundark: with respect and preferably with a long pole. Yoda studied them, gripping his gimer stick intently, and said nothing.

They bowed and made their report on the latest in their long string of back-to-back missions with their usual efficiency and detail. Once done, they bowed once more, and Qui-Gon spoke.

 

“Masters, while we are here, I would ask for a moment of your time,” he said, raising his voice so that none of them (especially Yoda, he thought with dryly) could pretend they hadn’t heard him. Yoda harrumphed loudly from his seat, complaining under his breath about ‘those who stay past their welcome’ and ‘too old for surprise announcements, am I,’ while Master Windu sighed and put his hand over his eyes.

 

“Yes, Master Jinn,” Master Windu said with the air of the long suffering. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan straightened from their bow and tucked their arms into their robes.

 

“As stated in recent changes to the bylaws of this Order, I am hereby informing you that Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and I are engaged to be wed in two weeks’ time,” Qui-Gon said. Master Windu sighed, leaning back in his chair to thump his head against the headrest with a groan as several other Members of the Council tried to speak all at once and summarily drowned each other out.

 

“Go, Jinn, Kenobi,” he finally bellowed over the din as the discussion began. “Fill out that paperwork and have it back to me by end of day; the secretary will send it to you.” Bowing, they exited, and the door shut out all but the loudest voices behind them. 

 

The Mon Cal secretary looked highly amused as he sent the requested documents to their ‘padds. Deciding not to waste any time, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan filled it out there in the waiting room as other Jedi gawked at the sounds of the debate raging in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan pressed his finger against the ‘padd one last time and then sent it back to the secretary, who thanked them and wished them a good day.

 

Grinning, they took each other’s hands and headed for the dining hall. They held hands all the way, and walked straight in and to the center of the room. Immediately surrounding Jedi looked on curiously, perhaps wondering why the two were in formal whites in the eating area, or why they had stopped. Obi-Wan grinned as Qui-Gon sent out a mild pulse through the Force, a polite way to call the room of Force-sensitives to attention. In the corner a visitor looked around, confused as to how all eyes in the room had suddenly focused on the man in the middle, snapping to him like predators on an unexpected scent.

 

“My fellow Jedi,” Qui-Gon began, “I’d like to make an announcement! Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and I are engaged to be married!” Shocked chatter rose up immediately, nearly deafening, with a smattering of laughter and applause.

 

“Jedi don’t wed!” someone shouted, in a raucous tone of voice. 

 

“No, Jedi do not wed,” Qui-Gon answered, and the chatter died down as the assembled beings listened closely. Were the two men leaving the Order…?

 

“But Obi-Wan and I love each other very much, and the Council has agreed to recognize unions formed on Republic worlds,” he finished with a flourish. The crowd was impossible to speak through this time, so Obi-Wan simply lifted their joined hands with a smile. Several of Obi-Wan’s friends forced their way through the throng to pounce on him, slapping his back and shaking him in congratulations and rebuke for not telling them ahead of time.

 

Offsides, on break having lunch, Masters Saesee Tinn and Mace Windu sat in frank astonishment. A shout of “Way to go, Kenobi!” floated across to them. Mace groaned and put his face in his hands as a dozen Jedi Knights and Masters left, anger and disgust perfuming the Force around them.

  
  


Celebrations and debate went on for quite some time in the refectory, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan slipped out early to escape to their quarters. There they were finally able to relax, lying together lengthwise on the couch quietly.

 

“What a day,” Obi-Wan muttered. Qui-Gon chuckled, barely audible. They laid there a while more until the holocomm unit dinged, announcing an incoming message. They both groaned, but it was Qui-Gon who eventually dragged himself off the sofa to go check it, fully expecting a censure or rant from Yoda or Mace. 

 

“Huh. A file from Tahl,” he murmured. Turning, he called over his shoulder, “Tahl found something.”

 

Tapping it to open, he watched it load and then began reading the scanned text. Two sentences in, he sat up further and leaned closer with interest.

 

“Obi-Wan, come look,” he said, fascinated. There was rustling behind him as Obi-Wan sat up and came to look over Qui-Gon’s shoulder. Soon he was leaning forward as well, hooking his chin over Qui-Gon’s shoulder to rest as he read.

 

“A bonding ceremony,” Obi-Wan said when they reached the end. “Force, Qui. That’s...that’s amazing.”

 

“I’ve missed having you in my head,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “A training bond wouldn’t be a good fit for us anymore, but this…”

 

“It’s inherently equal, where a training bond allows one person influence over the other,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I’ve missed you too. The pair bond is so shallow...” Qui-Gon nodded, eyes distant with thought. 

 

“We could sign papers to be legally married in two weeks like we said, and do a bonding ceremony with our friends and loved ones,” Qui-Gon suggested. Obi-Wan brightened with pleasure at the idea, but the words on the ‘plast pages kept worrying at him like a tarwolf with a bone.

 

“Back to the text, though--this implies more,” Obi-Wan continued. “The fact that there was such a ceremony means there were Jedi who bonded. The text only warns against unhealthy attachments, where there is unequal power. Do you think Tahl found anything else about that?”

 

“I’m not sure, but we can ask,” Qui-Gon said, picking up his comlink. 

 

“Tahl?” he asked when a beep sounded, letting them know the other end of the call had picked up. 

 

“Congratulations, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan,” Tahl said coolly. Qui-Gon winced. “So nice of you to tell your BEST FRIEND about your marriage first! I love hearing about major life decisions my best friend makes from other people! It’s my favorite.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Tahl,” Qui-Gon tried, making his voice as penitent as possible. Obi-Wan thought it was very effective, personally, noting the pleading eyes that went with it even though Tahl hadn’t been able to see in years. “Forgive me--we needed to announce it quickly, so that the Council would be unable to shush it up.”

 

Tahl heaved a put-upon sigh, but accepted. “All right, all right. You’d better tell me if one of you gets pregnant, though,” she joked, and Obi-Wan choked on his own spit. Qui-Gon laughed, long used to Tahl’s particular brand of humor, and asked about the text she’d sent.

 

“Oh, there was more, all right,” Tahl said. “There was actually quite a bit of writing about how to recognize potentially unequal relationships, how to encourage healthy ones, and a pair’s strengths and place in the Order--”

 

“So it used to be a fairly common occurrence?” Qui-Gon asked. 

 

“Not necessarily very common--there are only so many Jedi, after all, and most of us pair up with other Jedi,” Tahl corrected, “but common enough.”

 

“Why did it change?” Obi-Wan asked, thoughtful.

 

“We haven’t found out yet,” Tahl replied. “But now that we’ve found this, we can move forward in time through the texts, and--”

 

“We?” Qui-Gon interrupted. 

 

“Yes, we,” Tahl answered impatiently, “Madame Nu has been helping me with my research. Anyway, we can--”

 

“Jocasta Nu?” Qui-Gon blurted. “The same Jocasta Nu who no longer allows me to check out texts because she’s tired of me returning them with scraps of ‘plast as placeholders?” 

 

“I wouldn’t mind if they weren’t in every book you’ve ever returned!” a voice came over the comm, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both instinctively flinched. “It clogs the return machine!”

 

“I’m sorry, Madame,” Qui-Gon tried to apologize. 

 

“No, Master Jinn, I don’t believe you are,” she replied, and Tahl’s laughter interrupted the brewing argument.

 

“You two can talk about it later,” Tahl said. “Qui-Gon, if you want her to keep helping, stop antagonizing her and be quiet. Anyway, we’ll keep looking. Find a Master and have your bonding ceremony if you like, but Force help you if you do it without me, Qui-Gon Jinn!” Threat delivered, the comm clicked off, and Qui-Gon was left staring at his comlink.

 

“Alright then,” Obi-Wan said, trying not to laugh. Qui-Gon shot him an unamused look. “Now all we have to do is find a Master who will preside over the ceremony. I mean, I’d ask mine, but…” Qui-Gon pinched him in the side with surgical precision, eliciting a squawk as Obi-Wan wheeled backwards.

 

“I can ask my Master,” Qui-Gon said. “He and Madame Nu have always been good friends, and I suspect if she has no problem with us performing such a ceremony, neither will he.”

 

“What makes you think that?” Obi-Wan asked from his seat on the floor. Qui-Gon shrugged.

 

“Just a feeling,” Qui-Gon answered. Obi-Wan snorted but didn’t pursue it further; Qui-Gon often heard whispers from the Force, and they had proven true on more than one occasion. 

 

“I’ll message him now, while I’m here,” Qui-Gon decided. Obi-Wan pulled himself up off the floor and dusted his butt.

 

“I’ll get us some food, then, since we never did get to eat,” Obi-Wan replied, and went to the kitchen to see what he could throw together.

 

Qui-Gon was most of the way through the message he was writing when the comm unit dinged again. He finished his missive, looked it over once for errors, and then tapped to send it before opening up the new message. When he saw it, he chuckled ruefully and leaned back on two chair legs to raise his voice to Obi-Wan.

 

“It seems we’ve been assigned another mission, for some strange reason,” he called, and heard Obi-Wan laugh from the kitchen. “We leave in the morning!”

 

“Well, at least we’re never bored,” Obi-Wan replied. Qui-Gon smiled to himself. As long as they were together he didn’t mind, although he did hope they had a few days off here and there--he had only been half-joking about being too old for all this.

  
  


Two tens later, they were legally spouses and escorting an heir to a planetary throne to his wedding with a neighboring planet’s heir. The young men seemed to like each other well enough, if their holocomm conversations were taken into account, and the Jedi were merely a precautionary measure since one of the two systems was very important to that sector’s trade. It was an easy job, routine and a genuine pleasure, since the young man and his retinue were lovely people.

 

One of the pilots stopped by their bunk on the transport and rapped on the door.

 

“Message for you on the comm unit,” he said, and left. Obi-Wan rolled off the bunk, stretching and shaking off sleep, then pulled on his tunics before heading over to the comm station.

 

“Knight Ho-Tahn Geli” was the sender, and he tapped it to open it with a smile and began to read: 

 

_ Hello, Obi-Wan! Hi, Qui-Gon! I hope you’re doing well! Great news, guys--someone new has applied for spousal recognition and benefits. Her name is Knight Ya’ali Kerento and get this--she’s married to a civilian! _

 

_ The Council is shitting itself over the fact that it now has to provide healthcare and benefits to her spouse should she die on mission like it said it would. Most other Jedi seem to be ambivalent, honestly. They can’t decide if it’s a problem or not, and most seem to think it’s not THEIR problem either way.  _

 

_ Some of us are pretty pleased, though! A few of my friends and I put together a small congratulations party for her. You’ll have to introduce yourselves when you get back! I told her you’d say hi. _

 

_ Hope your mission goes well and wraps up quickly! _

 

_ Ho-tahn  _

 

Obi-Wan printed off a ‘plast copy to show Qui-Gon and headed out, incredibly pleased. 

  
  


The Force works in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan had always been told, but one mysterious way the Force might have spared him was a blaster bolt to the ass. All the same, it had him in the infirmary when he needed to be there, though he wouldn’t realize at the time that meeting a certain Wookiee would be so important.

 

He’d been mid-air when a blaster bolt grazed him right at the tender junction of thighs and groin and ass, and it had singed the hair off his balls but not injured them. All in all, it was perhaps the most panic-inducing injury he’d ever endured. After making sure there was no serious injury, Qui-Gon could not stop cackling about how he deserved it for attempting mid-air acrobatics in a firefight in a hallway. 

 

Even more indignity: Obi-Wan had to go to all fours on the medbay bed to give the healers proper access to the burn. He had never shown his balls to this many people in his life. He was definitely not an exhibitionist, he decided, mortified as another healer-apprentice came in the room to take a look, joining the three already there.

 

None of them snickered--that would be extremely unprofessional--but he was Jedi, as were they, and the healer-apprentices weren’t quite good enough at shielding yet to hide their vast amusement. Obi-Wan swore darkly that if he ever encountered them in the sparring hall he’d swat them on their asses at least once in a match.

 

They were just finishing up applying the temporary synthskin patch that would protect the area while he healed when roaring echoed down the hallway, startling all of them. Obi-Wan picked up vague Shyriiwook phrases, muffled by the door, along the lines of “you can’t make that choice” “I’ll do as I wish” and “will of the Force.” He had the brief, amused thought that perhaps Qui-Gon had turned into a female Wookiee while Obi-Wan was being tended and buried his grin in the pillow as the healer-apprentices dashed out of the room to go assist.

 

“Knight Liakarra, please!” another voice shouted. “We won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m sorry Healer-Apprentice Garrul said that; he’ll be censured--we take patient-healer confidentiality very seriously. Please calm down and we can go forward with your appointment as usual.” Obi-Wan eased himself out of position and off the medbay bed, then peeked out the door to see what was happening.

 

A tall, beautifully-furred brindle Wookiee female was standing with her arms crossed, glaring down at the female healer imploring her. A low growl rumbled out of her chest continuously, and Obi-Wan frowned; Wookiees were touchy at times, of course, but this Wookiee was a Jedi. Knight Liakarra was known to be excellent with coding and combat, and had been at the Temple almost as long as Obi-Wan had. As a Jedi she should have had better control over herself.

 

“<Very well,>” Liakarra said after deliberating. She followed the healer back down the hallway to her room as they talked. 

 

“<However, it was not your healer-apprentice’s threat to go to the Council that I am angry about. It is that he was using it to try and pressure me into terminating the pregnancy…>” she howled, and the door slid shut before Obi-Wan could hear any more.

 

Obi-Wan was appalled. He knew that many female Jedi chose to terminate pregnancies if they occurred, and that the remainder either left the Order or gave their children to the creche, vowing never to cross paths with them again. Usually the mothers (and fathers, if they were also in the Order) were transferred to a sister Temple or assigned long-term off-planet, where chances of them influencing their children’s lives was near zero. But for a healer, even just an apprentice, to try and force someone into such a choice was abominable.

 

He was finishing up his discharge paperwork when he heard more roaring, and this time both he and Qui-Gon were there to hear it.

 

“<I’ll have his skin if you don’t!>” Liakarra howled and barked. “<You’ll have this cub over my dead body, and that is a promise!>” She stormed out, leaving upturned medical equipment and paperwork in her wake.

 

“What in the Force…?” Qui-Gon asked, absolutely lost. 

 

“She’s pregnant,” Obi-Wan said, and really, that was all the explanation he needed. Qui-Gon would gather the rest, and did.

 

“How absolutely wonderful,” Qui-Gon said, a broad grin spreading from ear to ear. Obi-Wan groaned; he’d forgotten that Qui-Gon loved babies. 

 

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh, “take your poor injured fiancé home, would you?” 

 

Qui-Gon scoffed but slipped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist to help take his weight off his injured area, and helped escort him home.

 

A few days after, Obi-Wan was all healed and cleared for active duty again. After his healer’s appointment it was lunch time, so he and Qui-Gon went to the dining hall and picked up bowls of thick, spicy stew with flat bread that they used to mop up the last little bit. The rolling growl of Shyriiwook caught Obi-Wan’s attention, and he nudged Qui-Gon to get his attention. They listened in.

 

“<I filled out the form today,>” Liakarra was saying. “<Jowpirr can’t work now, and I can’t stay on Kashyyyk. He will come here, and here he will stay.>”

 

“You don’t think the Council will reprimand you?” her Twi’lek companion asked. Liakarra snorted, and they both laughed. It trailed off companionably before Liakarra turned serious and quiet.

 

“<I have given my life to the Force, and to service, and I am pleased to continue doing so,>” she howled softly. “<But my beloved needs care. I would bet the cost of his care is less than that of replacing a fully-trained Jedi.>”

  
  


They didn’t see Liakarra again for some time after that. When they did, her stomach was rounded, the brindle fur thin where her skin was stretched, and her chest had softened to the point that her bandolier hung uncomfortably. They were standing behind her in line for dinner on one of the rare occasions they ate late at the dining hall rather than enjoy the privacy of their own quarters. 

 

Qui-Gon helped reach a cup when she was having difficulties, thanks to her stomach, and she whuffed her thanks gruffly.

 

“Congratulations on your child,” Qui-Gon said quietly as they pushed their trays forward. The Wookiee turned, observing him carefully from only a slightly taller height, and then a her muzzle curved in a smile.

 

“<Thank you, Master Jinn,>” she replied. “<My apologies for doubting you. There have been many in the Order who had unpleasant words for me over it.>”

 

“I can only imagine,” Qui-Gon agreed sympathetically. “If you ever have need, our quarters are always open to you. Children are a gift, and it is sad that what should be celebration has become castigation for you.” She barked an irritated affirmative, shaking her head, and then put a large paw on Qui-Gon’s shoulder and looked at he and Obi-Wan.

 

“<My thanks,>” she said. “<I may take you up on that. My husband would be thankful for pleasant company, at the very least.>”

 

“He’s here in Temple?” Obi-Wan asked in surprise. He’d almost forgotten what he’d overhead that day months before in the refectory, but it was coming back to him now. 

 

“<He is,>” Liakarra said firmly. “<But as he is still recovering from a work accident, he is stuck in our quarters alone most of the day. He may lose his mind soon.>” She paused thoughtfully. “<He probably would have already if I had not given him the Temple blueprints and tasked him with finding any weakness or possible unmarked entry points.>”

 

“<He’s an excellent engineer,>” she explained. “<Though he was working as a mechanic at the time of his accident. Few beings will hire a Wookiee for intellectual work, unfortunately.>”

 

“I would love to be introduced,” Obi-Wan said. “I just found some of the new plans for Temple recon droids and would love someone to look at them with--Qui-Gon is decent enough with electronics, but he takes no joy in it.” Qui-Gon shrugged, taking no offense; it was the truth.

 

“<I am in the East tower. Come by any day after seventeenth hour and I’ll be home,>” she invited. “<But not before then, please--Jowpirr has a low opinion of Jedi at the moment.>”

 

Obi-Wan swallowed, considering how a Wookiee without Temple training might choose to make that opinion known, and Liakarra laughed and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

 

“<There, there--peace, brother. We’re proper civilized Wookiees, you know,>” she teased. Obi-Wan flushed at being caught out and gripped her paw, sending waves of apology to her through the Force, which she accepted with a nod before taking up her tray. 

 

“<Time to feed the cub,>” she joked, and went to eat.

  
  


After weeks of careful planning and strategic assignment and voluntary assignments, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s friends and lineage all managed to have a day off at the same time. They only had two days’ notice that it was going to work out, so Bant, Tahl, and Madame Nu had been making a flurry of arrangements.

 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon could have cared less, in all honesty--they had their whites, which would serve for formal wear as they had so many times before, and their loved ones would be there, and that was all that mattered to them.

 

Bant and Tahl listened to them explain this and then sighed, rolled their eyes, and muttered to each other deprecating statements about males of all species as they ignored them and went on with what they had been doing. Qui-Gon heard something about catering and decided he had best go take care of a lengthy task he had just remembered.

 

The day dawned clear and bright in the gardens, like every morning on Coruscant, with the main players of the show on time and impeccably dressed, their uniforms gleaming brightly in the early sun. Master Dooku waited for them, seated on rich green cushions that had been placed on mossy steps leading to a great fountain. He looked at their uniforms with a jaundiced eye but said nothing about it, instead inclining his head regally and then sweeping his arms out to indicate the cushions in front of him.

 

The assembled Jedi had their own cushions to sit upon a short ways back where they wouldn’t intrude, although Liakarra, hugely pregnant and due soon, chose to sit on a normal chair, which Jowpirr carried outside for her. Master Sifo-Dyas and Madame Nu sat with each other, holding hands, and Qui-Gon was forced to reconsider a long-held notion he’d had about the nature of his Master and Madame Nu’s relationship.

 

“The bonding ceremony described in the ancient texts that Madame Nu and Master Tahl unearthed is described simply, because it is, at its heart, a very simple ceremony,” Dooku began without preamble, raising his voice enough that the others could hear.

 

“It is a bonding, in many ways like every other bonding we undertake in our lifetimes as Jedi. It is reciprocal, as in a training bond; it is equal, as in a pair bond. But the bonding that is described in this ceremony goes much deeper than a pair bond, and allows no compulsion as in a training bond, and therefore is superior in this to both.

 

“My Padawan and my Padawan’s Padawan, my lineage,” he went on, “have come to me, declaring their love for one another just as they wish to do in front of you all today, and I have seen that it is true by the goodness it has wrought. My Padawan,” he said to Qui-Gon, who sat still as a statue, “I have never seen you shine so brightly as when you are with him.”

 

There was a soft murmur from the audience at that, which sounded mostly like agreement; Qui-Gon felt his ears burn red and valiantly did not clear his throat. Obi-Wan’s eyes were soft as he looked at Qui-Gon trying not to squirm at the rare kind words from his Master.

 

“The ceremony is simple, and performed at dawn, the start of the day symbolizing the start of your new commitments to each other,” Dooku went on. “So close your eyes, listen, and allow me to guide you.

 

“Reach down, down, down into the deepness of your souls,” Dooku’s deep voice said, “well past where your pair bond lies. This is the level at which bonds are usually made, where you extend yourself and reach out to touch the other.”

 

In his mind’s eye, Qui-Gon sat on the edge of a stone well. It was deep, and at the bottom cool water gathered, life-giving and good. Above was the sky. Here, others dwelled, and anchored to the well and leading away was a rope of blue light that led to...Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon smiled and twanged the rope, receiving laughter in return. 

 

Deeper, Dooku had said, so he turned and went down.

 

“Down you go. Good. Search deep, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and you’ll find a spot. It will be unique, and you may not have noticed it before; the distinct thing about this spot is that it is empty.”

 

Qui-Gon frowned, searching, and after a time found a spot in himself that matched his Master’s description. Strange, but it was completely contained within himself, and therefore little danger. Simply odd, and...it tugged at him slightly. He shifted his seat and waited.

 

“This is the anchor point,” Dooku said. “You will take your current pair bond and shake it loose from where it touches you, and pull it down to this point. Slowly, and work together, now.”

 

Qui-Gon climbed back up, then took his time, prying the rope fibers apart where time and rain had fused the knots, and ignoring the strange rustling sensation in his own head. Obi-Wan, working on his end, he assumed, and glanced up.

 

The sky above him had transformed.

 

A vast starscape spanned the sky from horizon to horizon, stars and planets and nebulae shining in the darkness so deep it made his head spin. His breath stuttered as he tried comprehend the vastness and failed, and then his mind caught up to him--he whirled, turning to look down at the rope, and then up, and up, and up…

 

His Obi-Wan was a nebula, the birthplace of stars, and Qui-Gon couldn’t have thought of a better comparison. He looked down at the rope again, their pair-bond, and twanged it once more, and received again a laughing response along the bond. Qui-Gon felt a wild grin slide across his face, an expression he might never have allowed in real life, but here, with his love? It was absolutely appropriate. Qui-Gon laughed, finished tugging the rope free of the well, gripped it tight, and jumped in.

 

Freefalling, Qui-Gon twisted to look up at the nebula rushing towards him, then caught a handhold in precisely the right spot. The empty space was waiting, ready to be filled, and Qui-Gon shivered; this was not the time for that, but he tucked the memory away safely for later. Holding the rope out, he introduced the cut end to the empty space and watched in fascination as the rope began to fray. The individual fibers wrapped around the space, over and over itself, revolving at a faster and faster speed and the rope-ball grew. 

 

A sudden sound made Qui-Gon look up, and the darkness of space met him. Gases and fire and nothingness and rebirth poured itself down the well, through him and past, and when Qui-Gon could breathe again was gone.

 

The rope-ball made of his empty space was gone as well, and he felt despair clutch at his heart as he wondered if he’d done it wrong, if it somehow hadn’t taken--a nebula was so big, how could it fit inside a well--

 

“Do you need help up?” Obi-Wan called from the top, and Qui-Gon slipped and nearly fell in. He scrabbled for a hold on the rock and found it, catching it securely, but all his attention was at the bottom of the well. 

 

Where there had once been water, now there was liquid night sky, Obi-Wan’s nebula nestled safely in the midst of it as comets and planets danced on. Qui-Gon looked back up to see Obi-Wan’s delighted, smiling face and flung himself back up with a completely justifiable use of the Force.

 

Obi-Wan caught his hand and hauled him the rest of the way out, and Qui-Gon swooped down to kiss him through Obi-Wan’s laughter. They held each other, embracing and laughing and talking over each other as they related their view of events, until Master Dooku’s voice echoed from the horizon.

 

“Well done!” he said. “Now come home, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, so you may return the gesture.”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked at each other, puzzled but too happy to care, and leaned forward to touch foreheads. Closing their eyes, they focused on re-emerging, and came back up into the world together.

  
  


“How do you feel?” Dooku asked, and Qui-Gon had to force himself to open his eyes, feeling nearly drunk with exhaustion. The light was blinding for a moment but his eyes soon adjusted and he looked down at Obi-Wan with utter devotion. 

 

“Qui-Gon?” Dooku prodded, and Qui-Gon startled. 

 

“Fine! I am...I’m very tired,” Qui-Gon said. His eyes were drawn back to Obi-Wan as though by a strong current, and he found himself meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes this time. 

 

“Tired,” Qui-Gon repeated stupidly, and Dooku decided that was good enough.

 

“Congratulations, you two!” he called out. “You are now bonded until death, by laws of the Order and your own. Now…” he cleared his throat.

 

“Now what,” Qui-Gon asked, and he and Obi-Wan finally managed to stop staring at each other to look at Dooku.

 

“Return the favor, you said,” Obi-Wan remembered. 

 

“Yes,” Dooku said gruffly. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stared at him, flabbergasted.

 

“You want to...bond...with…” Obi-Wan asked, leading him along in hopes of further information.

 

“Oh! Ah, yes. Jo, Si, our turn!” Madame Nu and Master Sifo-Dyas stood, brushing their clothes off casually, as though they crashed wedding ceremonies daily, and stepped up. Dooku took the pillow Sifo-Dyas offered and he and the other two all sat, arrayed before Qui-Gon expectantly.

  
  


Qui-Gon stared at them for a moment, looked over at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly, making the low-high-low noise standard in the galaxy for “I don’t know!” Qui-Gon sighed, took up Obi-Wan’s hand for strength, and then bowed to the Masters before him.

 

“Right,” he said. “Close your eyes, listen, and let me guide you...”

  
  


“I’m so sorry you weren’t expecting us,” Madame Nu apologized later over the lunch Bant and Tahl had set up to be catered. “Yan assured us that you’d read the text and knew it was a group ceremony, open to anyone…”

 

“It’s alright, Madame, it was a miscommunication, that’s all,” Qui-Gon assured her smoothly. A lifetime of diplomacy lent itself nicely to inter-lineage politics at times like this, and Qui-Gon was not above using his talents for his own preservation. “I was unaware Master Sifo-Dyas was also a part of your relationship, actually.”

 

She laughed, covering her mouth politely. Qui-Gon filed the moment away for times when he needed to be reminded that miracles happened.

 

“Oh, Yan owes me credits! I told him you knew about he and I, but he insisted he was so careful...it was easy enough to keep Si hidden, since he’s away so often. Hopefully he’ll be brought back more often now; this ceremony still constitutes a legal marriage, you know. Oh, I must go find Yan, he’ll be so put out!” She walked off in Master Dooku’s direction, and Qui-Gon was shaking his head when a pair of strong arms slipped around his waist from behind.

 

“You were right, sort of,” Obi-Wan offered, and stood tippy-toes to kiss the back of Qui-Gon’s neck. Qui-Gon laughed.

 

“Story of my life, love,” he replied, and turned to kiss him properly.

  
  


There seemed to be little change in the Order overall for some time after that. There were still pointed debates in the Masters’ lounge, and both smiles and scowls when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon held hands or showed affection in public. Missions took the bulk of their time, keeping them away from Coruscant for days and tens at a time, but Obi-Wan began to write friendly correspondence with Caleb, Ho-tahn, and Jowpirr while they were off-planet.

 

They were mid-transport when Jowpirr and Ho-tahn both sent missives announcing the birth of Liakarra and Jowpirr’s cub, Jiorral. Jowpirr wrote that he was a beautiful chestnut-furred male, and that he was strong in the Force (which anyone who had met Liakarra knew already; her child glowed in her like an ember ready to burst into flame).

 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sent their congratulations and promised to bring a welcome gift for the child as soon as they were on-planet for more than a single cycle. Jowpirr assured them it would be welcome, and that they were to come see the child immediately, as soon as possible, in order to welcome him into the world.

 

Two tens later they finally caught a break and were back in-Temple for a time. After the endless transport vessels, diplomatic couching of phrases, and touchy situations, it was a relief to be home. The entire structure of the Temple exuded Light and was a balm to their souls, the vast sea of other Jedi’s presences cradling and uplifting them. They stepped into the entrance and paused for moment, soaking it in, and then continued on their way.

 

First stop as always was their quarters to drop off their gear, eat, clean up, and generally wash off the dust of space travel. It was mid-morning and they had been able to sleep on the transport, so there was no real need for rest, but a hot meal and a cup of tea in an actual mug--and their mugs, from home--refreshed them more than a nap could have. 

 

Qui-Gon stripped off his boots and socks in celebration, as was his habit, and kicked back on the sofa with a deep, pleased sigh as Obi-Wan went past and to the ‘fresher to take the first shower. He emerged feeling chipper, and Qui-Gon heaved himself off of the couch to take his turn. Once done they had their tea, checking their messages on the holocomm unit idly as they ate stale biscuits from the cupboard. 

 

“Jowpirr says hello, and that he knows we’re back now and we’re to come by as soon as we’ve washed,” Obi-Wan read aloud. He and Jowpirr had bonded by mail over schematics of droids and the newest release of swoop bike from Obi-Wan’s favorite manufacturer, and were good friends now. Qui-Gon chuckled, tapping a message to delete it; he didn’t need to read the refectory menu from two weeks ago.

 

“Where did we pack the gifts? I remember buying them, but I think you put them in your bag,” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan grunted affirmatively and finished reading his last message, then got up to go find the items in question. He and Qui-Gon had been escorted to a market on one world, and Qui-Gon had seen and purchased a lovely set of hardwood teething toys. They were small enough not to be a danger if the child threw them, but big enough not to be a choking hazard, and had been painted brightly in nontoxic dyes. Obi-Wan had chipped in and had also found a pretty little comb that would be perfect for little Jiorral’s fur and was cunningly carved with a tiny depiction of wroshyr trees so that the teeth were the trees’ trunks.

 

He dug them out of his pack where he’d tucked them carefully away, wrapped in a spare cloak. He unwrapped them and scrounged up a pretty kerchief they’d been gifted on a trade world. It that was patterned with green and pink leaves and it looked much more festive than his cloak had, he decided with a smile, and surely Liakarra or Jowpirr could use the kerchief for Jiorral somehow. 

 

“Did you know there was another child born to a Jedi while we were gone?” Qui-Gon’s voice drifted from the living room. Obi-Wan made an interested noise, tying a knot on their gift and then picking it up and going back out.

 

“That’s not uncommon,” Obi-Wan said, “why do you mention it?”

 

“The parents refused to give the child over to the creche,” Qui-Gon enlightened him. 

 

“Oh! Liakarra is starting a trend, then,” Obi-Wan said. “Ready? Let’s go congratulate her and meet the fluff-cub.” Qui-Gon chuckled, but got up and pulled his boots back on so they could go.

 

Jowpirr greeted them at the door, howling happily and pulling Obi-Wan into a great, furry hug. Obi-Wan laughed, pounding his back in return, and didn’t object when Jowpirr buried his face in Obi-Wan’s hair and took a deep sniff to memorize his scent. The whuffling that came afterwards was ticklish though, and Obi-Wan twisted out of Jowpirr’s grip, the Wookiee’s chuffing laughter following him.

 

“<Master Jinn, Obi-Wan, welcome!>” he barked. “<Come say hello to Liakarra and meet Jiorral.>” They entered, Jowpirr clapping Qui-Gon on the shoulder companionably, and he led them to the living room. Liakarra lounged there with a tiny chestnut fluffball climbing over her stomach, wiggling and pulling himself over her. She barked cheerful greetings and reached over to scoop Jiorral up and place him on the floor in front of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Sitting up, the little cub blinked up at them with round eyes and a steadily twitching nose before growling in a tiny, fierce voice.

 

Laughing, Qui-Gon knelt down on all fours so that he was no longer towering over the cub and puffed a breath at the cub’s forehead, rustling the fur there. Jiorral paused, intrigued, and Qui-Gon did it again. The cub made a tiny burbling bark that must have been laughter and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s hearts both melted into tiny puddles on the floor.

 

“He’s beautiful, Liakarra,” Obi-Wan said, and she beamed, chest puffed with pride. 

 

“<His name is Jiorral, and it means ‘beloved treasure,’>” she said. “<We would like it very much if you would come see him often and be part of our found-family.>” 

 

Startled, Obi-Wan glanced up from where he had knelt to play with the cub. Liakarra saw the question in his eyes and whuffed a small laugh.

 

“<You paved the way for Jowpirr and I to be here, together,>” she said. “<And you are fierce warriors. We could ask for no better elders and friends to surround our child with.>” 

 

Obi-Wan had to swallow and blink a few times to keep back unexpected dampness, but he bowed too, accepting.

 

“We are honored,” Qui-Gon said from the floor, where Jiorral was busy climbing on his head. The long hair must be intriguing for the tiny cub, Obi-Wan mused. 

 

With nothing better to add, Obi-Wan presented Liakarra and Jowpirr with their gifts for the baby. They greatly appreciated them, thanking them heartily, and especially liked the comb for its depiction of the trees of their homeworld. 

 

“<We will comb his fur every evening with it, and tell him of the great trees we grew up in,>” Jowpirr said. It touched Obi-Wan deeply, to think of a gift from his hands being such an important part of the cub’s life, and when Jiorral loped over he scooped him up to nuzzle into his fur as Wookiee family did.

 

Jiorral purred, grasping Obi-Wan’s hair and holding his head close to nuzzle him back, and Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine being happier. 

 

Later that night, they lay together in bed, arms around each other and legs entwined. Qui-Gon was quiet as usual and Obi-Wan was nearly asleep when he spoke.

 

“Jiorral is a sweet cub,” Qui-Gon whispered. Obi-Wan hummed drowsily. “It was good, seeing you with him.”

 

Tired as he was, it took Obi-Wan a minute to place the tone of Qui-Gon’s voice; once he did, he woke up quickly, surprised. He tried to think of a clever way to ask without stating his question outright, feeling awkward, but couldn’t, and in the end just opened his mouth and made the words.

 

“Did you...have you thought about children?” he asked. He was a little afraid, suddenly, that there was something Qui-Gon wanted, deeply perhaps, that he hadn’t shared with Obi-Wan. Something that perhaps would make his beloved sad, or regretful, that Obi-Wan didn’t have in his power to do on his own.

 

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan more tightly against his chest and buried his face in Obi-Wan’s neck, cuddling him close to soothe him.

 

“Hush, love. I didn’t mean like that,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m not unhappy. Sshh.” Once the tightness in Obi-wan’s chest had dissipated he continued.

 

“I would have enjoyed having children with you, had you been a woman,” Qui-Gon said. “You aren’t, and I wouldn’t change you for anything. I just thought you looked happy with Jiorral earlier, and that a...paternal look was a good one for you.” Obi-Wan considered that, and eventually they fell asleep, letting the subject lie.

  
  


They came back to visit at least once a cycle when they were in-Temple, sometimes more often if they had been gone on mission for a while. Jiorral grew fast, going from crawling and loping on all fours to standing and toddling at full tilt, to even climbing up the furniture with his little sharp cub claws.

 

He was alert, playing and exploring, and his first tentative uses of the Force came right on time for his species, around six months of age. The unexpected part was how quickly he mastered that little Force-push that knocked his favorite snack to the floor, and how fast he began to explore other options for its use.

 

“Well, he’s around Force users all day,” Qui-Gon said with a shrug when Liakarra growled mournfully that all her dishes were being broken. “I don’t know what you expected.”

 

“<I’ll take yours then, Mr. Know-It-All, since you didn’t see fit to warn me,>” she grumbled. Qui-Gon smirked but was very careful to catch anything Jiorral knocked down when Qui-Gon was babysitting after that.

 

It soon became apparent that Jiorral was ahead of his age-group in the creche in several areas. It became a pattern when the other two Jedi-born and raised children also tested higher in areas such as responsiveness, patience, and emotional regulation and security.

 

“<It takes a village to raise a child,>” Liakarra said with a shrug, “<The number of creche workers we have is nowhere near enough to raise the number of Initiates we have.>” 

 

“We got by, I suppose, but didn’t thrive as we should have,” Obi-Wan said. It bothered him, some, that he could have been..more, he supposed. More secure. But it was the past and couldn’t be changed, only learned from, and he was determined that other children would have advantages he’d been denied. He’d see to it himself.

 

“<The Council is considering offering to let Jedi couples adopt the children in the creche, and raise them to apprenticing age,>” Liakarra said. She and Obi-Wan were in her kitchen, each holding a mug of tea as they watched Jowpirr and Qui-Gon make fools of themselves with Jiorral on the floor. 

 

“Maybe it will give other children a better beginning than what the creche alone can provide,” Obi-Wan mused. “I assume the children would still go to the creche during working hours?” Liakarra nodded, fur flopping with her movement.

 

“<Who better to teach Jedi children than Jedi?>” she said. Obi-Wan nodded absently, agreeing, as he watched Qui-Gon laugh and fool around with Jiorral. 

 

Qui-Gon had asked him if he’d ever considered having children. Truthfully, Obi-Wan had not; he had known since he was young that he would be a Jedi, and Jedi did not have children. Besides, he liked men far more than women, and had always assumed he’d eventually end up with a man long-term.

 

He could see it now, though, and realized that he wanted it. He watched quietly, and decided to talk to Qui-Gon about it soon.

  
  


More missions, and more time rolled by. Obi-Wan woke up one day to realize it had been three years since that fateful cold day on Klator when they were searching for a snow tiger, frost in the air and chill so deep in their bones that they ended up sharing a bedroll. If he hadn’t pressed the issue with Qui-Gon then...it didn’t bear thinking about. Not when he was so happy now.

 

He rolled over to face Qui-Gon and leaned in to kiss him, starting out soft until Qui-Gon began to wake, and gently increasing pressure until Qui-Gon responded. Ardent kisses escalated into more as Obi-Wan caressed Qui-Gon’s sides, stroking up and down his waist like he knew Qui-Gon liked. Qui-Gon groaned into their kiss and pulled Obi-Wan’s hips flush with his own, eagerly grinding their erections together, breath coming quickly.

 

Just awake, Qui-Gon took less time to get off, but he was still older and had gotten into the habit of having more sex than he’d ever been used to before in his life. They took their time with each other, and Obi-Wan slid down to take Qui-Gon’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently and moving slowly, squeezing Qui-Gon’s balls with one hand. Qui-Gon came with a gasp, filling Obi-Wan’s mouth, and after a moment he pulled him up to kiss him deeply. 

 

“Your turn, my sweet man,” Qui-Gon whispered, and dipped back for more kisses as he wrapped a hand around Obi-Wan. Long, luxurious strokes ended with a twist of the wrist at the head, Qui-Gon taking care to rub the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock with his thumb, soon had Obi-Wan following him, spilling over Qui-Gon’s hand in slow pulses. Qui-Gon snatched up the underclothes he’d taken off so that Obi-Wan could blow him and wiped off his hand, then dropped it on the floor and pulled Obi-Wan close to press kisses to his face and forehead.

 

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon rumbled. 

 

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan agreed, stretching and then settling back in for cuddles. 

 

“That was lovely,” Qui-Gon said, and his tone was curious, the question left unsaid. 

 

“Three years now, we’ve been together,” Obi-Wan explained softly, rubbing the tip of his nose into the notch between Qui-Gon’s collarbones. Vibrations tickled him as Qui-Gon laughed softly.

 

“Happy anniversary, then,” he said. “I enjoyed my gift very much.” Obi-Wan nipped his collarbone in reproof and Qui-Gon chuckled again.

 

“Three years, Qui,” Obi-Wan repeated. “Have you thought about the future at all?” Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan curiously, eyebrows drawn at the strange line of questioning.

 

“Not much,” Qui-Gon said. “I prefer to live in the moment, Padawan.” The bite he received this time was bordering painful, and he squirmed away then smacked Obi-Wan’s flank. 

 

“Not your Padawan, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said. “Your equal. Partner. Fellow Knight. Whichever suits you best. But...I’ve been thinking.”

 

Qui-Gon shifted up onto one arm, reaching over to cup the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and look at him with concern. Obi-Wan looked back steadily, letting Qui-Gon see the equal vulnerability and hope that spoke in his heart now. The older man looked stunned, drawing back slightly before resettling where he was.

 

“What’s this about, love?” Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan took a deep, steadying breath.

 

“You said that you would have wanted children, had you fallen in love with someone who could have them,” Obi-Wan started. 

 

Alarmed, Qui-Gon tried to pull Obi-Wan in so he could soothe and shush him.

 

“No, Obi, darling, that’s not something I--”  he began.

 

“I meant, you like children, there’s no reason--” Obi-Wan interrupted, and was interrupted in turn.

 

“Honestly, Obi-Wan, there’s no way I could--”

 

“Let me finish, Sith take it!” Obi-Wan snapped, “Liakarra told me the Council is considering opening the creche children up for adoption within the Order!” Qui-Gon blinked repeatedly, processing, and then frowned down at Obi-Wan.

 

“You don’t want me to sleep with someone to have a baby,” Qui-Gon clarified. Obi-Wan snorted and reached over to grasp Qui-Gon’s dick.

 

“No. Mine,” he said. Qui-Gon snorted, then chuckled, and then couldn’t stop until it had built to full-blown laughter, and Obi-Wan went along for the ride. They laughed until they couldn’t any more and then pressed kisses to each others’ faces, chortling and wiping away tears and occasional murmuring something like “mine” or “knock somebody up” or “better not be a hint.” 

 

“I would like that very much,” Qui-Gon said once they’d finally wound down and were pressed against each other, skin to skin like they’d been maglock sealed. “I think you’d make a wonderful father, and that you would enjoy it greatly.”

 

“You must be talking about yourself,” Obi-Wan said from where he’d nestled up against Qui-Gon’s chest. A stray hair tickled his upper lip, and he moved his lips around until it was tucked against his mustache. Qui-Gon laughed, disrupting the whole effort with his movements.

 

“I’ll talk to Yoda later and see what’s been said,” Qui-Gon said, getting up and pulling on his robe. Obi-Wan gave up on getting the chest hair out of his face and rolled off the bed to get in the shower as he did every morning. As every morning, Qui-Gon took the time to admire the view as Obi-Wan walked naked to the ‘fresher, and as every morning, Obi-Wan drew it out.

 

“Enjoy it while you can,” Obi-Wan said over his shoulder as he went into the ‘fresher. “If we adopt a kid, I’m not sleeping naked anymore!”

 

“Sithspit,” Qui-Gon grumbled, and went to make tea.

  
  


Another mission took them off-planet for a couple of tens, and then they were brought back to deal with the Senate; it was time of year for the annual budgetary committees to start divvying up capital, and Jinn-Kenobi was well known. The Order was absolutely not against using the weight their names lent in the Order’s favor, and most years Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were called in to try and sway friendly Senators into allotting more to the Order’s budget.

 

It wasn’t just anyone who could say they’d been visited by Jinn and Kenobi, after all. 

 

It was a miserable month, generally, but this year they could look forward to spending time with Jiorral and his family. The cub was growing leaps and bounds, as his species did, and was already growling out protolanguage. With thoughts of bringing a child into their lives, caring for the cub took on a whole new aspect: seeing Qui-Gon carry Jiorral on his hip while they selected a snack from the cupboard, Obi-Wan could see a child of their own, and when Obi-Wan sang the cub to sleep while Liakarra and Jowpirr had a night to themselves, Qui-Gon envisioned nights where he did so for their child. 

 

It got to the point where Liakarra noticed. 

 

They had stopped in to visit on one of their few free days before fundraising was set to start. Obi-Wan was watching Qui-Gon show Jiorral a Force game where they pushed a balloon across the floor to one another. He supposed he might have been feeling a bit sappy...Liakarra sniffed purposefully, then leaned forward and sniffed closer to him. Then she straightened, wrinkling her nose.

 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, mystified. 

 

“<If you want your own cub so badly, there is a room full ten levels down,>” she said, and barked laughter when Obi-Wan went completely, mortifyingly red. Qui-Gon and Jiorral came over to find out what the joke was, and Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands as Liakarra just laughed louder.

 

“All right! I’ll put the request in today,” Obi-Wan finally managed without stuttering before he fled the apartment. Liakarra filled Qui-Gon in on the joke, but his reaction was nowhere near as satisfying: a small huff, and a slight enrichment of his scent. Liakarra’s nose twitched and she grinned, recognizing what flavor had been introduced.

 

“<I don’t think that would work. Best stick with the creche,>” she said, and there! Now he was blushing. He handed Jiorral to her, muttering too lowly for even her ears to make out, and followed his mate.

 

“<Humans are silly,>” she crooned to Jiorral, making him yip little giggles. “<So silly! Yes. But we love Uncle Qui and Obi. Yes we do.>” Jiorral grumbled and growled and then tried to take a dive out of her arms. She sighed, catching him easily, and set him down to go cause mischief elsewhere.

  
  


Obi-Wan did in fact put the request in that day. He took a small break for tea, which ended up being a break for other things when Qui-Gon caught up with him. Afterwards he looked up the crechemaster’s report on development in Jiorral and the other family-raised children versus the creche-raised children. Having made sure it seemed to be in the children's’ best interest, he penned his supplicant missive, taking care to use the most proper and respectful forms taught in the Temple.

 

He tapped “send” after asking Qui-Gon to look it over, and then they waited.

 

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said, five minutes after he’d sent it. Qui-Gon gave him an extremely long-suffering look; Obi-Wan huffed and began to swing his chair side to side slightly, fidgeting.

 

“Stop that,” Qui-Gon ordered. Obi-Wan stopped it reflexively but then, with a mutinous look, began again. Qui-Gon glared at him, and Obi-Wan swung slightly further to the other side so that Qui-Gon’s face was no longer in his line of sight. Qui-Gon’s face took on a thunderous cast, and he was just opening his mouth to say something when Obi-Wan swung hard to complete a full rotation, ending up looking straight at Qui-Gon.

 

“Spar?” Obi-Wan asked and Qui-Gon deflated with a relieved sigh.

 

“Spar,” he agreed fervently, and they both got up to collect their gear and change.

  
  


Sparring took care of most of Obi-Wan’s anxious energy; Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan hadn’t had a good recreational sparring session in some time, and resolved to remind his love when he needed to take a break. After the spar, Qui-Gon was tapped out, but Obi-Wan needed to burn off a bit more, and decided to take a few runs of the gymnastics course. It was always a pleasure to watch Obi-Wan move through the course, so Qui-Gon sat, sipping his water to hydrate and cooling off.

 

Their sparring had dulled the flighty edge to Obi-Wan’s energy, and what was left was his reserves. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan moved, flowing like water across, around, and through the obstacles without stopping, moving smoothly from one motion to the next like he’d been born to this environment. Three runs in, Obi-Wan’s moves lost their fluid edge, and he was all energy and impact, pushing himself powerfully from one thing to the next. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan’s limits as well as he did, so he wasn’t surprised when that was Obi-Wan’s last time through. He stood by the exit pad with a towel and bottle of water as Obi-Wan rolled out, extending his offerings when the younger man stood.

 

Obi-Wan bypassed them and pulled Qui-Gon in for a hard kiss; Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s length hot and hard against his thigh and thought to himself that if there’d been no other audience, Obi-Wan might have taken him then and there on the floor. Obi-Wan pulled back, ending the kiss suddenly and taking the towel to wipe his face and neck and try to regain some balance. Qui-Gon waited and eyed the padded floor and decided it would be soft enough for his knees...another day.

 

“Better?” Qui-Gon asked and Obi-Wan blew out a hard sigh.

 

“Much,” he replied. “I’ve got cool down stretches and then I should get cleaned up. Dinner after?”

 

“It’s my turn,” Qui-Gon agreed. “Refectory, Dex’s, or toast?” Obi-Wan perked up at one of the suggested options.

 

“Dex’s,” he said, pleased. “I’ll be up in a bit, I only brought my sweats down.” Qui-Gon leaned down to give him a brief kiss, mindful not to tease, and Obi-Wan went to shower.

 

Obi-Wan was back down where they usually met and they walked out the entrance gate together. Obi-Wan was feeling pleasantly drained after the intense workout routine, and elected to loop his arm through Qui-Gon’s elbow and lean against his shoulder as they went. It was only a few public transport stops to Dex’s Diner, and Dex was there to greet them before they sat down.

 

Their dinner was delicious, a greasy mess of some sort of off-world cheese, ground meat, and a deep friend tuber, all smothered in a sort of...fungus sauce? Obi-Wan wasn’t sure, but it was delicious nonetheless. Dex knew what he was about, and it was best to not ask the details. They enjoyed a couple of ales each with their food, the beer cutting the grease perfectly, and when it was done and they had performed the usual “leave credits on the table, Dex yells at us, we take the credits back and leave them on a different table when he isn’t looking” payment routine, they headed back.

 

“Perfect day off,” Obi-Wan sighed happily from where he was lazing, stretched across Qui-Gon’s lap on the bench seat in the air cab. Qui-Gon grunted, agreeing, and closed his eyes, at peace.

 

The aircab swooped down to the pad near the Temple entrance and lined up with the other cabs, letting them out after they paid their fee. Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan out with a steadying hand hand, and they made it perhaps fifteen steps towards the Temple when none other than Mace Windu came thundering toward them as serenely as one could possibly thunder.

 

“Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi!” Mace bellowed, clapping a hand on both their shoulders and aggressively steering them towards the Temple entrance at a fast pace. “Are you both in the habit of submitting formal petitions to the Council and then ignoring your holocomm unit for hours? We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for half a day!”

 

“We didn’t think--”

 

“The Council never decides so--”

 

“Listen and listen well,” Mace growled, voice low and urgent. “I’m not going to insult you two and ask if you were serious with your petition. If you want to adopt a kid, you are going to have to get on this now before Senatorial fundraising starts, because afterwards you’re not going to have any leverage for the next sol, and neither will I.” His hands on their backs pushed a little harder, hurrying them towards the Council chambers.

 

“So for your sakes, get your asses in that room and fucking steamroll us, because I have bent backwards trying to make this happen and I can’t do it alone!” he finished, shoving them into the alcove next to the chamber entrance and straightening his uniform before strolling sedately inside.

 

There wasn’t much to say at that point. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon looked at each other with wide eyes, then hurriedly stepped forward and put each other’s uniforms to rights as best as they could, straightening the backs and layering the collars precisely until they looked the very image of respectability. Obi-Wan peered down at their boots and squatted down to use a piece of fabric from his belt to buff out a few scuffs on first Qui-Gon’s boots and then his own, and Qui-Gon made sure he hadn’t mussed his uniform when he was done.

 

One last bit of fuss made sure their hair was decent and then they turned, facing the door with somber faces. Qui-Gon nodded regally at the highly amused Padawan by the door, who grinned, shot them a thumbs-up, and then pressed his hand to the door plate to open it.

 

Obi-Wan studiously did not shoot him a thumbs-up, but Qui-Gon gave him a careful wink before turning to walk into the Council chamber.

 

The fully assembled Council of the Jedi Order was seated, each Master in their place around the circular middle platform. The sun had just set, and there was a dark cast to the remaining natural light, only just beginning to be offset by Coruscant’s billions of illuminated buildings and vehicles and signs. It was like visual noise, providing something outside where there was nothing inside; Obi-Wan had the sudden feeling that they were in the eye of a great coalescing storm. 

 

This was it; this was the center. In this moment, it had all spun in and was touching, ready to explode back out, flinging its influence to the farthest corners it could reach.

 

Obi-Wan wished he hadn’t eaten such a large meal, and breathed in slowly through his nose to quell his nausea. Qui-Gon’s conscience flickered at the edge of his, sensing his disquiet and acknowledging it.

 

“Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi,” Mace said, his voice raised. “The Council received your petition earlier today. Per the Code, formal petitions will receive formal replies. The Council has convened to speak with you about it.”

 

“We are gratified the Council chooses to hold a formal session to discuss our petition,” Qui-Gon answered gravely. 

 

“It is true we have been debating whether to allow Jedi of the Order to adopt crechelings,” Master Yaddle said. “But we have yet to come to a firm decision. What have you two to say?”

 

Obi-Wan understood. There were Council members who had yet to be swayed one way or another, and the Council would not record a final decision on so weighty a proposition until all members had voted for or against it. This must have been what Mace wanted of them. They were the top team in the order, and Qui-Gon’s oratory skills were well-known; Mace was hoping they could decide the undecided few.

 

“What makes you think you could do a better job than the creche masters?” Master Rancisis asked, sibilant. His sinuous tail was still but for the tip, which flicked occasionally. 

 

“Numbers, Master,” Obi-Wan offered with a respectful bow. “There are only so many creche workers, and many Jedi who might choose to adopt our children. With those spaces opened up, we could bring in more Initiates from Search.”

 

Master Rancisis scoffed, a hacking noise, but did not ask more, settling back thoughtfully on his seat. He did not scowl, but there were baleful eyes in his otherwise calm face. Obi-Wan didn’t think he was one of the undecided masters.

 

“Initiates belong in the creche--they need guidance so they may learn to be Jedi,” Master Poof said. He no longer swayed to and fro, instead sitting ramrod straight and still, refusing to look at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and instead glancing around at his peers.

 

“Who better to guide them than their parents, Knighted Jedi?” Qui-Gon replied. “There is a creche full of children most of whose parents are not Jedi. Why not formally allow those born to Jedi parents to stay home, rather than looking the other way? Why not allow those in the creche to be adopted to willing Jedi parents who have no children of their own?”

 

“How is this supposed to help guide these children along the proper path?” Master Tinn argued. “Surely they will not be effective on missions if they’re constantly mooning over home and hearth! They must be self-reliant, so that in battle--”

 

“Unwise, this is,” Yoda interrupted. “Go where they are needed, a Jedi must. If disobey the Council--”

 

“We are not soldiers!” Qui-Gon roared finally, and that shut everyone up. “We are sentient beings, servants to the Force, and I want one of you--just ONE of you!--to look me in the eye and tell me what purer relationship there is than that between a parent and child. Tell me what harm there is when they are all in the Temple regardless! Tell me why these children should not have homes, why these Knights should not have love, why we Masters should abstain from the support that even the Force-blind are allowed!”

 

“Attachment to the Dark Side leads,” Yoda snapped, banging his walking stick against the floor for emphasis.

 

“Attachment,” Qui-Gon said. His voice was dangerously low, and for a moment Obi-Wan wondered if he ought to intervene. Too late--Qui-Gon was a mounting wave, and was not about to be stopped. “Attachment. You would say I’m attached to Obi-Wan? I’m attached to the Order? I say that word is too weak. I love my fellow Jedi. I love my husband. We are Jedi, and we serve the Force, and that means that at our very core is love, and yes, attachment!!”

 

Now was the time to step in, with the wave crested and the room at a standstill, while they recovered from the emotion Qui-Gon had invoked with his words. The clouds were spinning out again from the storm’s eye, and if he could add a touch of his own influence quickly it would spread too.

 

“Masters,” Obi-Wan said softly, “Let me frame the question in a different manner.” He gestured to the Padawan standing inside the door, who was holding a datapad, and took it gratefully. It was a moment’s worth of work to access his own files from the network and send the data he’d received from the mindhealers and crechemasters to the Council members.

 

“As you can see, since allowing committed relationships to be acknowledged and fulfilling our legal obligation to those unions, instances of PTSD-related breakdowns and urgent care appointments to the mindhealers have both gone down by statistically significant amounts,” Obi-Wan said, highlighting the pertinent portions of the documents and sending them the changes. 

 

“Additionally, mindhealers have reported anecdotal evidence that more inclusive support networks have helped their chronic patients see further progress than previously, and that in a few cases part of the ongoing issue required knowledge of the patients’ partners to resolve. 

 

“The healers’ ward is also seeing fewer incidences of STIs and unplanned pregnancies, but not yet in statistically significant amounts,” Obi-Wan added, “but they are seeing fewer accidents that could be related to overwork, and credited it to lower stress levels.”

 

The Council members were silent, except for the quiet rustling of Oppo Rancisis’ tail as it lashed before stilling. Yoda harrumphed, looking at the data, and then setting his datapad down with a crack.

 

“Discuss this further we will in private,” Yoda said. “Dismissed you are, Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi.”

 

“It would be a shame if this were to distract me during the next month, while I am to speak with the Order’s major benefactors,” Qui-Gon said quietly, placing his trump card. It was a bluff; he’d do his best to secure the Order’s funding for another year, as he did almost every year, but it was his only way to truly mark how serious he was in this matter. The silence crackled with tension as Qui-Gon looked steadily down at Yoda, whose green eyes were calm and tight, as they were before combat.

 

“Respectfully, Master Yoda, they cannot be dismissed from a formal petition hearing until we have given them an answer,” Mace cut in. Yoda grunted, irritated, and waved his stick. “I call the petition to a vote: those in favor of allowing creche children to be adopted by vetted Knights and Masters, and those against. Cast your vote, and may you follow the will of the Force.”

 

The Councilors all tapped their consoles, Masters Yaddle and Ti last, and Obi-Wan felt the scales tip. Mace picked up his ‘padd to read the results and then set it back down again, fixing his eyes sternly on Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

 

“Congratulations, Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi,” he said gravely, “following a positive psychological assessment, you will be allowed to adopt one of the crechelings. You are dismissed, and may the Force be with you both.”

 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed, Obi-Wan’s chest feeling light and full as though he were about to lift off the ground, and it was hard to resist laughter when Qui-Gon corrected Mace in a serious tone:

 

“Actually, Master Windu, it is Master and Knight Jinn-Kenobi. Thank you for hearing and granting our petition.” 

 

Mace was startled into a laugh, though he covered it immediately with a cough and a glare that meant Qui-Gon would have quite a workout next time he went looking to spar. They bowed and took their leave, and as soon as the chamber doors had shut behind them they laughed, whooping and holding each other in joy.

  
  


There had been stipulations to the Council’s ruling. Parents could not be Master to their own children, biological or no, and Padawans were still to move in with their Masters when they were apprenticed. The psychological evaluation was a breeze, and would have been easy to pass had Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon been intent on doing so; as it was, they answered truthfully, and were still given a clean bill of health.

 

The Initiates and smaller children in the creche weren’t told there was a possibility they might be adopted and released from the creche; it seemed cruel to tell some of the younger ones who might still remember and long for home. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan solved the problem by simply volunteering for creche duty on days they had free.

 

Qui-Gon’s favorite time slot to sign up for was before bed, when he could tell the younglings stories, weaving magic with his deep voice and dramatic gestures. The children sat spellbound around him, a few of the youngest opting to snuggle into his lap or lean against his side, while the older initiates lay comfortably on the floor close to each other or on their own. 

 

When it was time for him to go so the younglings could go to sleep, several of them whined, dragging at his arms to try and anchor him where he sat. Grinning, Qui-Gon stood anyway, fluidly dragging them up with him as he went and then depositing them giggling into their beds. He went around in front of the nighttime bed monitor, pressing his hand to each child’s hand or head, and when he got to one blond child he stopped, recognizing him as the messenger that had run across he and Obi-Wan in the midst of a fit of hysterical, exhaustion-induced laughter.

 

“Hello,” Qui-Gon greeted. The kid was cute, and looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. 

 

“You tell really good stories,” the child replied. “I’m Anakin.”

 

Qui-Gon smoothed the unruly hair down, thinking to himself that it had been lighter when he first saw him, and leaned down impulsively to buss a bristly kiss against the boy’s forehead.

 

“Sleep well, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, and moved on to finish seeing the other initiates off to sleep. 

  
  


Obi-Wan preferred to see help tire the younglings out earlier in the day. He had the energy, athleticism, and inclination to run them in circles playing tag, capture the flag, kick the can, or stay-in-the-air, which was played with a light ball. Sometimes they did nothing more than play ‘monster,’ where Obi-Wan was the monster and the children would either run shrieking from him or try and ‘slay’ him. Obi-Wan enjoyed it all and kept pace, helping the children stay in good spirits and learn to channel and transform hurt feelings, anger, or disappointment into joy, laughter, competitiveness, and peace.

 

There was a blond initiate who was much, much stronger than the others, but he showed less emotional control. He was a naturally happy child, and Obi-Wan found it easy enough to redirect him when he was upset, but it was strange that he’d been here for so long and hadn’t picked up as much in that area as the others. Anakin, he said his name was, and the crechemaster told Obi-Wan later that he’d come to the Temple late. 

 

He was adorable, though, and Obi-Wan found himself drawn into Anakin’s games more and more often. They shared a sense of humor that varied from dry of wit to excessively silly. By the end of the day Obi-Wan would have Anakin on his shoulder or by his side as Obi-Wan showed Anakin how he could play with the other children; Anakin’s strength in the Force was intimidating to some of the other Initiates, but Obi-Wan was able to teach Anakin how to shield and soften his presence so that it was less scary and more warm. His knowledge was a bridge that Anakin crossed to reach more friends among his crechemates.

 

“He’s such a sweet child,” Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan one day as they were walking back from the Senate building. It had been a long day, but not a bad one; they scheduled their easiest work on their longest days to ease the load, and because at the end of the day there was usually one friend or another offering drinks. Tonight had been the senator from Kashyyyk, who had asked after Jiorral--news of the Order’s change in internal structure had begun to spread, and the Senator was pleased to hear it.

 

“<Cubs belong with their clan!>” he roared good-naturedly over a large mug of...some sort of liquor. It tasted nice enough, but in deference to the size difference, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had only had a little. “<Once grown, they have their own claws to climb away, and that comes too soon anyway. It’s good Jiorral will have his parents to help him understand our ways.>”

 

“Knight Liakarra and her mate Jowpirr are good friends of ours, and Jiorral grows daily,” Obi-Wan told him. “Fine examples of a Wookiee!”

 

“<And so beautiful,>” the senator sighed, scratching his chest. “<Such a lovely couple! Tell them I said hello.>” 

 

They left later much amused and also rather confused, but overall it was a success.

 

“He is a sweet boy,” Obi-Wan agreed. “He’s so strong...he told me he’s from Tatooine! I can’t imagine how he came to be here, though I shudder to think what might have happened had he not.”

 

Qui-Gon frowned thoughtfully, stepping carefully around a smaller being that wasn’t watching where it walked as they continued. 

 

“I don’t know,” he realized. “It isn’t a Republic world, so we wouldn’t have been conducting Search. How strange.”

 

“We can ask,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and Qui-Gon nodded.

 

“So we can. I believe I shall,” Qui-Gon agreed. 

  
  


“Anakin? Oh, he was found on a slave transport,” Creche Master Rohrive Bowwal said, scratching his bearded chin. It wasn’t as long a beard as on Qui-Gon’s chin, but it was thick, and the children loved to sink their little fingers into it. As a result, he now had a streak of blue paint dried into a patch under his jaw, which flaked a bit as he worried at it.

 

“He what?” Qui-Gon asked, startled.

 

“A couple of Knights were following a ship that was taking slaves from Hutt space and selling on a Republic world,” Master Bowwal explained. “Anakin said he was from somewhere hot and dry; and his papers said his mother had been debilitated by a local disease and since they weren’t working, their owner sold them both to cover some debt. Unfortunately he didn’t sell them to the same buyer. Anakin went offworld, and his mother went elsewhere.”

 

“How old was he?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to fit such a horrible backstory to the bright and lovely child that he knew. 

 

“A year ago. Anakin was four years old.”

 

As he relayed Anakin’s story to Obi-Wan later, Obi-Wan listened quietly with a thoughtful look in his eyes. He leaned back when Qui-Gon was done, stroking his moustache, and pulling the edge into a point. Qui-Gon watched him do it, stifling a smile; it was a rather silly habit that he supposed Obi-Wan thought looked distinguished. At least it was better than chewing on his Padawan braid had been.

 

“He needs a solid presence in his life,” Obi-Wan concluded. Qui-Gon leaned close to Obi-Wan, pressing his arm against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan glanced over at him, leaning back into the pressure.

 

“I think we could be that presence,” Qui-Gon told him. Obi-Wan tilted his head, and his eyes fell half-closed; Qui-Gon could feel him casting out, seeking among the currents of the Force. It sent chills up his back as it always had, a strange half-wrongness half-rightness to it--such an act went against the grain of the Living Force, but it wasn’t of the Dark Side. It was just...slightly alien. Nonetheless, he’d learned over the decades to accept what Obi-Wan saw...with a grain of salt, yes, but accept it nonetheless.

 

He felt Obi-Wan stretch out, flexing carefully cultivated mental muscles; deeper he went into the morass Qui-Gon felt of the future. 

 

“I can’t tell,” Obi-Wan said, voice slightly slurred as though he were speaking in his sleep. Qui-Gon used to need to guide Obi-Wan back out of trances this deep, and still felt anxious, but Obi-Wan’s presence felt steady and solid. 

 

Obi-Wan surfaced gently, as a leaf coming up from a strong current. He sighed, then opened his eyes, that far-away peace not quite yet shaken.

 

“It will do no obvious harm, at any rate,” Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon. “I felt little guidance either way. Perhaps the Force expects us to make our own decision for once.” He smiled wryly, and Qui-Gon couldn’t decide whether to kiss or scold him.

 

“Heretic,” he settled on, leaning over to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s forehead. He was always grateful when Obi-Wan came back from that kind of searching forward unscathed. Obi-Wan scoffed, shaking the last of it off, and thumped Qui-Gon’s chest.

 

“Let’s sleep a few nights on it,” Obi-Wan suggested. “There’s nothing to be lost, and perhaps some perspective to be gained.”

 

“Knight Kenobi, are you trying to get me into bed?” Qui-Gon rumbled, dropping his voice low to run a shudder up Obi-Wan’s back. Obi-Wan’s mouth curled up into a smirk and he purred in response.

 

“Why, no, Master Jinn,” he replied, “I’m trying to get you into me.”

 

_ He’s  _ damn _ smooth, _ Qui-Gon thought with a shiver of his own.  _ Good thing he’s mine _ .

  
  


Liakarra came roaring through the front door early the next morning, startling both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon into jumping up from the kitchen table. Obi-Wan’s hand slapped against his hip where his lightsaber usually hung and Qui-Gon yanked his robe closed with a yelp as she shoved Jowpirr into the front room and then ran immediately back out again, still carrying Jiorral. The cub’s gleeful howl was cut off by the door closing, and all three males stood, staring at each other, Jowpirr’s fur at all angles and Obi-Wan’s dick in plain view.

 

“<Liakarra says the Council has ordered I be escorted out of the Temple,>” Jowpirr howled after a moment. Then, curious: “<So little fur there, too?>”

 

Obi-Wan flushed a brilliant scarlet as he slammed the edges of his robe shut.

 

“That’s a perfectly normal amount of fur for a human!” he snapped. Jowpirr chuffed then shrugged. “Hold on--why are you being escorted out?”

 

“<The Council reviewed the budget and decided civilian tenants were too much of a strain on the Temple’s finances,>” Jowpirr told him. 

 

“Shit,” Qui-Gon swore, “Caleb and Sanei!” He and Obi-Wan pulled on their cloaks, calling their lightsabers to their hands out of habit, and ran for the door.

 

“Stay here, Jowpirr; we’ll get it sorted,” Obi-Wan called as they left and Qui-Gon tried to raise Caleb on by comm.

 

It was impolite in the extreme to run in the Temple, but it was also impolite in the extreme to suddenly toss out beings who’d lived there for nearly a year. They dashed along, controlled skidding and running up walls at the corners, allowing them to make take tight turns without losing momentum, and soon they were in the North tower where Caleb and Sanei lived. As they’d feared, there was a group of Temple security guards already rapping on the door impatiently, Master Gallia standing by with a grim look, lightsaber in hand but unignited.

 

It lit with a snap when Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan came whirling up the corridor like a storm made human, and she yanked it up into a startled guard position before realizing she wasn’t under attack. She doused it as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan came to a stop in front of her and crossed her arms with a scowl, shoulders tense.

 

“What are you thinking, running up on me like that?” she scolded.

 

“Adi, what is the Council thinking, evicting these beings?” Qui-Gon thundered. 

 

“I don’t like it either, Qui-Gon, but I reviewed the budget myself and they were right--with projected numbers, we won’t have enough to support the influx of civilians,” she replied stridently. “I understand you want change to happen overnight but we just don’t have the infrastructure!”

 

“I can pay rent,” Caleb said from the open front door. Everyone jumped, having turned to watch the argument instead of continue trying to get in. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Master Gallia asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.

 

“I can pay rent for Sanei,” Caleb repeated, his hulking form ducking delicately around one of the security officers to stand by Master Gallia. “That should cover use of utilities and food. We can get something together to dock my pay for her healthcare if that’s an issue. It’s not like we don’t have the space; the Order hasn’t been at full capacity in at least half a millennium.”

 

They all absorbed his suggestion, Adi and Obi-Wan obviously doing the math in their heads. Adi blinked, dark eyes considering, and then nodded cautiously.

 

“Officers, thank you for your assistance, but please make the call to belay our last order,” she ordered. “All evacuated civilians are to be located and returned, and further evictions are to be put on hold until further notice. If we have need of you, the Council will call.” The officers bowed, then got busy making comm calls, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon let the rest of their tension and ire drain away.

 

“Caleb, please come with me so we can explain your idea to the rest of the Council,” Adi continued. “Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan...please go get dressed. And--no more running?” 

 

“Ah...yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said with an awkward bow. Qui-Gon nodded, covering embarrassment with his usual quiet dignified facade, and they both turned and went back towards their quarters.

 

“... we overreacted a bit,” Obi-Wan said as they walked back.

 

“A bit,” Qui-Gon agreed. “I believe we let Liakarra’s urgency infect us.” 

 

“You think?” Obi-Wan muttered, irritated. Qui-Gon chose not to reply to the sarcastic words and when they reached their apartment, Liakarra was waiting sheepishly by the door.

 

“<Jowpirr won’t let me in,>” she told them. 

 

“<Oh no, a Jedi, come to arrest me!>” Jowpirr howled, muffled through the door. Qui-Gon held back a sigh and instead placed his hand against the door plate, opening the door for them.

 

“<Eek, fearsome Jedi! Poor helpless Force-null male that I am, surely I am already defeated!>” Jowpirr lowed mournfully from the floor, where he had sprawled dramatically. 

 

Jiorral squirmed out of his mother’s arms and slid to the floor, then bounded growling loudly to his father, jumping on him with abandon. Jowpirr whuffed with the force of the air leaving his lungs, but then lay back, defeated.

 

“<Da! Da,>” Jiorral growled, whining with worry when Jowpirr didn’t immediately respond. “<Daaaaaaaa-->”

 

“<Ambush!>” Jowpirr howled, arms flashing up to grab the cub, and Jiorral shrieked at a pitch that only small children ever truly reach as his father snatched him up and began to tickle him.

 

“<No! No, Da, no,>” Jiorral finally begged, and Jowpirr let him go. 

 

“<I have defended myself against the fierce Jedi,>” Jowpirr intoned gravely as he cuddled Jiorral to his chest and sat  up. “<Now, maybe your mother will not shove me into unsuspecting, naked humans’ rooms and run off anymore.>”

 

“<All right, you’ve made your point,>” Liakarra grumbled. “<I’m already going to be paying your rent; don’t make me pay for this too.>”

 

“<Rent?>” Jowpirr asked, curious, and so the Jedi explained. 

 

“I wonder, if…” Obi-Wan began, then stopped, glancing at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at him questioningly, face open, which Obi-Wan took as permission. “If Anakin doesn’t become a Jedi, will we pay rent for him as well?”

 

“<Anakin?>” Liakarra asked. Obi-Wan fiddled with the hem of his cloak, feeling strangely shy. Qui-Gon took pity on him and slipped his hand into Obi-Wan’s.

 

“We petitioned the Council to allow us to adopt a child from the creche,” Qui-Gon explained, and Liakarra and Jowpirr both barked in pleased surprise.

 

“<Excellent! You’ll be good parents,>” Liakarra said.

 

“<We had wondered if you would be permanently borrowing Jiorral or finding a cub of your own,>” Jowpirr teased, and Obi-Wan laughed.

 

“There’s a boy we both feel drawn to named Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I feel like he is to be a Jedi, but there’s always room for mistakes and I just…”

 

“<Worry,>” Jowpirr supplied sympathetically. Obi-Wan nodded, taking a moment to resettle himself in the Force.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of tea and some lunch,” Obi-Wan said when he was feeling calmer. Jowpirr and Liakarra both whuffed agreeably, hauling himself to his feet with Jiorral held to his chest, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon went to put actual clothes on under their cloaks.

 

Their group took up a lot of space in the narrow halls of the living quarters buildings as they made their way to the refectory. Obi-Wan reflected with amusement that he was the shortest by at least six inches in a group of very tall beings. Of the adults, at any rate, he thought with a glance at Jiorral where the cub was hanging onto his mother’s shoulder by tiny fistfuls of fur. He caught Jiorral’s eyes and then stuck his tongue out at him, and the cub hauled himself up to stick his tongue back out at Obi-Wan with a garbled howl. Liakarra snapped her teeth at Jiorral in reprimand and then glared at Obi-Wan, who looked on in perfect innocence as Jiorral slumped forward, staring ahead penitently.

 

Another group squeezed by them. Jiorral’s eyes went wide and he barked, turning and reaching an arm out towards Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan flinched back, caught by surprise, and then tripped and wheeled backwards, trying not to fall. Qui-Gon caught him, startled, and helped him back up.

 

“Obi-Wan! What happened?” Qui-Gon asked, pulling him back up. Obi-wan opened his mouth to answer when Jiorral snarled fiercely, a strange sound from such a small mouth, and it was directed at the group that had just passed.

 

Even Piell was on the far side of the small group. He turned back to glance at the growling cub and a momentary sneer curled his mouth away from his teeth, but his face smoothed over again as fast as it had changed and he was turning away again.

 

Qui-Gon’s hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder clenched tightly, the lines of his body stretching towards the retreating Master, and there was a moment in which Obi-Wan thought he would follow and confront him. Jiorral snorted, clearing the scent of the group out of his nose, and the moment was broken, Qui-Gon’s hand loosening its grip once more. The moment passed.

 

“<So that is how it will be,>” Liakarra growled lowly. Qui-Gon was still staring after Master Piell, as though marking him for later hunt, and Obi-Wan had to gently tug him forward to start walking again before he would look away.

 

“That is how it will be for them,” Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan nodded, on the same page.

 

“But we will not sink to that level,” he told the Wookiee family. Liakarra rumbled in approval, and Jowpirr scoffed. Jiorral withheld his opinion, but he reached over to cling to Obi-Wan instead of his mother for the rest of the trip, and his dark little eyes watched everyone who approached carefully.

  
  


Qui-Gon spoke with Creche Master Bowwal about bringing Anakin home early the next day. Obi-Wan hadn’t said it, but Qui-Gon knew he felt the same as Qui-Gon did--anxious that those who resented their place in the recent changes in the Order might prevent the adoption from taking place, or even bring harm to Anakin.

 

“He’s well protected here, Master Jinn, but I can understand your concerns,” Master Bowwal assured him. “We’ll keep a close eye on him until you take him home. You’re going to speak with him about it soon?” Qui-Gon nodded.

 

“Today after his classes are done, if you don’t mind,” Qui-Gon said. 

 

“Not at all! There was another couple down here last week actually. They haven’t asked yet, but I can tell they’re bonding with one of Anakin’s friends, little Saini. Hopefully they’ll have each other for support during the transition,” Master Bowwal said, removing a speck of biscuit crumb from the edge of his beard. “Ah, I was wondering what that was. Hm.”

 

“Well, we’ll see you after classes,” he said, and went after a youngling who was leaving the restroom. “Hansa, go back in there and wash your hands, young lady--”

 

Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head, and carefully navigated around the Initiates running to and fro in the creche. Obi-Wan was waiting for him with breakfast when he returned and kissed him on the cheek when he entered the kitchen.

 

“Any problems?” Obi-Wan asked, handing Qui-Gon his tea and then going back to the scrambled lyrd eggs cooking on the stove.  

 

“None,” Qui-Gon told him, and had a sip of tea. “Classes usually end around sixteenth hour, and we’re free to go see him then.” Obi-Wan moved the food in the pan around, staring down at it quietly, and Qui-Gon watched him over the rim of his mug. Much longer and those eggs would be  _ very _ dry.

 

“I find myself disquieted,” Obi-Wan said, reaching over to flick the stove off suddenly. He collected the pan and spatula and neatly pushed their servings onto their plates. He dropped the pan and spatula into the sink with only a little more force than necessary and turned to pick up their plates when Qui-Gon intervened. 

 

“Let me, love,” Qui-Gon told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Go sit down. Take your tea.” Obi-Wan blew a sigh out forcefully, frowning at Qui-Gon, but did as he was told. Qui-Gon fetched their food and some cut-up fruit and greens from the refrigeration unit and then sat with him, handing him his eating utensil. Obi-Wan looked at him, lips quirked and one eyebrow raised with his arms crossed, and took it.

 

“You’re stressed,” Qui-Gon said by way of explanation, and Obi-Wan’s body language relaxed, defeated.

 

“I am,” Obi-Wan admitted, selecting and plating a few pieces of honeymelon for himself. “It’s a long time until then. And...it felt like a line was crossed yesterday. I worry about what other lines may be.”

 

They ate in silence, the occasional scrape of a fork or loud sip of tea punctuating the quiet. Qui-Gon put down his utensil and stared down at his half-eaten food, then pushed it away and pulled his mug close, cradling it tightly between his hands.

 

“I’m worried too,” Qui-Gon said quietly, and stared at his tea. Obi-Wan tensed, but then made an obvious effort to calm himself before standing and going over to Qui-Gon. 

 

He urged him up from the table, taking the tea from his hands, and then over to the couch, where Obi-Wan lay lengthwise and pulled Qui-Gon down on top of him. Qui-Gon curled up over Obi-Wan, laying his head against the younger man’s chest, and just breathed.

 

“This is going to be difficult, isn’t it,” Qui-Gon said after a time. Obi-Wan hummed, stroking Qui-Gon’s long hair back from his gentle face.

 

“Yes,” he replied. “But the more I think on it, the more I think it will be worth it, Qui.” They were quiet together on the couch for a long time, until the food was cold on the table and the milk in their tea had settled. At some shared internal signal they sighed, Obi-Wan leaned down for a reassuring kiss, and they got up and got dressed to go get some exercise in the hopes it would take care of the rest of their nervousness.

  
  


The sparring hall was crowded when they arrived, and with a glance between them they decided that was fine; it was just more opponents to keep them busy while they waited. Obi-Wan realized most of the Council members were here, which was shocking enough, but several of them were actually sparring with each other. Mace Windu and Adi Gallia whirled round and struck, bouncing off each other’s blades as in a dance more than a struggle, and SaeSee Tinn and Even Piell were battering away with all the ferocity they were known for.

 

Even Master Yoda was present, staring out at the matches from a seat in the front, and Obi-Wan felt a strange swirl of emotion when he noticed him there. Something was important here, his senses whispered, and for a moment Obi-Wan despaired of having a normal day again in his life. Then he acknowledged it and pushed the feeling away, breathing in the assurance of the Force, breathing out the negativity, and making a mental note to have some downtime soon.

 

“Warm up well, my dear,” Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon, whose eyebrows rose up in question at the directive. But Obi-Wan shook his head, stowed his cloak in the provided lockbox on the side wall, and began his own stretches.

 

They spent longer than usual on it, until a half hour had passed and they couldn’t put off starting any longer without forfeiting their space. Obi-Wan walked over to the sparring ring’s ‘pad podium and entered their names, leaving the opponents’ names blank to signal they were open to be approached. The wait was short; as Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon to wait, someone cleared their throat from around Obi-Wan’s mid-thigh.

 

“Your opponent, I will be,” Yoda said, all geniality and good humor. “Time to talk, it will give us, hm? And exercise, yes.”

 

“Of course, Master,” Obi-Wan said with a bow. Inwardly he frowned; Master Yoda rarely joined the sparring, and usually (according to those who had been alive at the time) only when he had a Padawan to teach. Yoda stumped along after him as the podium slid down seamlessly into the floor.

 

“Master Yoda would like to have a word and a go-round,” Obi-Wan said as Qui-Gon looked at them both. 

 

“Heard I did that Initiate Skywalker, you wish to adopt,” Yoda said, shedding his cloak and tucking it away. The lock box door swung shut with a small clang and sealed tight, awaiting Yoda’s thumbprint to reopen just as Obi-Wan’s awaited his. The sense of immediacy and importance that had been a soft whisper at the edge of Obi-Wan’s hearing earlier began to grow, swelling into a voice that rang in his ears with its volume.

  
  


“Impossible, that is,” Yoda said when he was back, “for adopt him myself, I will.”

 

Shock. Obi-Wan’s feet felt rooted to the floor, his chest still, his voice silent as he stared down at the eldest Jedi in the Order. Yoda stood there with a mild look on his face, the complete opposite of Qui-Gon’s floored expression, and Obi-Wan could not speak.

 

Wrong! screamed the Force. Look closer! Look!

 

On instinct alone Obi-Wan floundered, and he managed to focus on the old Master only with intense effort. He strained, listening, trying to understand what the Force was telling him, and--nothing.

 

Nothing! The Force howled. And in an instant, Obi-Wan finally understood.

 

“No,” he said, his voice cracking, and he cleared his throat before repeating himself. “No, Master. That would not be in Anakin’s best interest.”

 

“Obi-Wan--” Qui-Gon started to say, shocked, but Yoda cut in.

 

“No, you say?” Yoda asked incredulously, then laughed. “No! Qui-Gon, your student, this certainly is.” Chuckling, he reached for his lightsaber, and something in Qui-Gon felt alarm. He took his up as well, watching Obi-Wan do the same as confidently and smoothly as if this were a dream.

 

“No, Master,” Obi-Wan said, staring down at him. “Please. You must listen to the will of the Force now. Listen to what it’s telling us both.” Yoda scoffed.

 

“When 800 years old you are, then tell me when to listen you may!” Yoda said. There was a scathing tone in his words that Qui-Gon could only remember hearing a few times, when the most grievous insults had been committed by those in the Order. Obi-Wan ignited his blade, to Qui-Gon’s panic, and then worse: Yoda did the same. Something was happening here, something he wasn’t able to hear, and he didn’t have time to steep himself in the Cosmic Force; there was about to be a battle in front of him.

 

Helpless, he ignited his own blade, and it was the starting bell that began the fight. 

 

Yoda leapt, his own style of acrobatics making Obi-Wan seem clumsy, and Obi-Wan batted the opening salvo away easily; they were feeling each other out since they hadn’t sparred in years, and they all three knew it. 

 

“You don’t care for him, Master,” Obi-Wan called, missing Yoda with a swat that would’ve caught the small Jedi on his downward arc. Qui-Gon watched, distressed, and then stepped forward on instinct to parry a blow that would’ve bit at Obi-Wan’s shins. Too late he realized he had entered the battle and Yoda began to include him in his offensive.

 

“Teach him well, I will!” Yoda called back, and grunted as he had to suddenly halt a spin Obi-Wan almost caught him in. It had been an age since Qui-Gon faced an opponent this size, and he regretted it dearly as the short-stroke parries required his arms to use muscles he didn’t usually work. “A fine Jedi he will be!”

 

“This isn’t apprenticeship; it’s adoption!” Obi-Wan countered, and nearly had Yoda once again; rather than block the blow, Yoda twisted around it and kicked Obi-Wan’s legs out from under him. Qui-Gon darted forward, giving Obi-Wan time to get back up, and blocked a series of blows from all sides as Yoda literally ran along his shoulders.

 

The tiny Master vaulted off of him and towards Obi-Wan, but he’d gotten his wind back and blocked the blow. On and on they went, and Qui-Gon despaired of making peace between them.

 

“You could apprentice him in a few years. Why are you keeping him from us?” Obi-Wan shouted during a short-lived offensive, and Qui-Gon’s center stilled.

 

It was truth, the Force said. He understood in a flash what Obi-Wan had already seen, the Living Force telling him that Obi-Wan had hit the issue on the nose where the Cosmic Force had warned Obi-Wan ahead of time.

 

Yoda didn’t want Anakin to be his son because he was a brilliant boy with a heart like a star; he wanted him to keep Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan from adopting him.

 

“Master,” Qui-Gon choked out. Yoda had been his confidante when he and Dooku had clashed, had showed him the inner workings of the Living Force...had been his friend. 

 

“Why?” he asked, and had to block Yoda’s blade.

 

“Ruin him, you will!” Yoda snapped, and it was only Obi-Wan’s reflexes that saved Qui-Gon’s arm from a nasty burn; Qui-Gon had stopped, thinking the spar over so that they would talk like rational beings--but Yoda seemed anything but rational as he snarled vitriol and went hammer and tongs at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, switching to whichever was closer at hand. “Strongest child in a generation he is, and teach him weakness you will!”

 

Blood roared in Qui-Gon’s ears, and he couldn’t hear the shouts of spectators, who were now extremely concerned. He opened his mouth to snarl back, but Obi-Wan beat him to it.

 

“We will teach him balance!” Obi-Wan shouted, his presence in the Force lit up like a signal fire. “We will teach him love, and loyalty, and security and faith, but above all, balance!” He and Yoda were so focused on each other now that they left no room for Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon realized with shock that he was seeing the battle of a lifetime--here, in the Temple, between two Jedi of the Order. 

 

They were moving nearly too fast to track, submerged in the Force, and if Qui-Gon hadn’t trained Obi-Wan he would have been completely lost. It was awe-inspiring, breathtaking, and Obi-Wan had never been more handsome and beautiful than he was at that moment.

 

But then there was a parry, a thrust, and Qui-Gon’s heart stopped in his chest when he saw Obi-Wan’s knee go out, kicked in by a strong three-toed foot, and a green lightsaber flashing towards his neck--

 

“Master!” Qui-Gon screamed, desperate, and the ‘saber stopped. Yoda and Obi-Wan gasped in breaths, their chests heaving as Yoda snatched back his ‘saber and doused it, shoved it back onto his belt and then turned and hobbled off. Obi-Wan sucked in another breath and let himself fall back with a whimper, flat on the floor with his one leg bent at the wrong angle. 

 

“Oh, gods, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon gasped, and ran over to him, sliding down onto his knees despite the pain the joints gave him. Obi-Wan was white with pain but patted Qui-Gon’s hand, trying to reassure him. “Oh, love, your knee--”

 

“Somebody get a medic in here!” Mace Windu’s voice rang through the shocked murmuring of the crowd. Master Billaba yanked out a commlink and thumbed in a number, talking rapidly as soon as the other end answered. Mace jogged over and then knelt down with them, looking Obi-Wan over. He reared back suddenly.

 

“Sith, Kenobi, your neck--he got that close?” he demanded, and Qui-Gon saw it: a bright red burn, no worse than what a ‘saber on training-strength would have given, but unacceptable from a Knight, much less a Master.

 

“Obviously,” Obi-Wan ground out. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade, the pain was asserting itself in full, demanding its due. Qui-Gon let one hand hover over Obi-Wan’s knee, examining the damage, but didn’t dare try and heal it least he do further harm.

 

“Mace, the Council is being called,” Depa said, putting a hand on Mace’s shoulder, and Mace’s jaw tightened as he stood up.

 

“This has gone on too long. Let’s go,” Mace said, and he and Depa strode through the crowd and out the door.

 

“Oh, love,” Qui-Gon murmured, helping Obi-Wan up to a sitting position with his back to Qui-Gon’s chest. “I’ve never seen you fight like that before. Not in your entire life.”

 

“The Force was with me,” Obi-Wan said, panting. “Master Yoda knows it. Knew it then, too. Just didn’t want to acknowledge it.”

 

“Aren’t you glad you warmed up,” Qui-Gon said, moving the sweat-soaked hair out of Obi-Wan’s face, and Obi-Wan laughed until he cried.

  
  


Obi-Wan was settled into the healer’s ward quickly and efficiently, and after the painkillers kicked in Obi-Wan couldn’t help but joke about it.

 

“I know how you do this so well!” he told Healer Hemschi as the older man hooked up his IV.

 

“And how is that,” the healer asked, amused. 

 

“Ease born of long practice,” Obi-Wan announced, and then laughed for a long time. Qui-Gon wished he had a holocam to take a video of this; Obi-Wan would be mortified, but what Qui-Gon liked best about situations like this was that Obi-Wan would insist his jokes were funny even after the medication wore off.

 

The healer was a good sport and laughed a little as he rolled his eyes, then went to inform the master healer of his progress.

 

“All right, my comedian,” Qui-Gon said, vastly amused. “Listen. I have to go to the Council in a little while. The healers here will take care of you until I get back.”

 

“‘M not a child, Master,” Obi-Wan slurred, and Qui-Gon had to bite his lip.

 

“Of course not, Padawan,” he couldn’t help but reply, and then watched as Obi-Wan digested his words and slowly went very, very red.

 

“Is this a thing for you?” Qui-Gon asked, and bit his lip harder. The red was now at Obi-Wan’s chest.

 

“Uh,” Obi-Wan said, and then looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

If he bit any harder he was going to go right through his lip, and Obi-Wan would have kiss him around a piercing. The Council could wait a damn second; this was good.

 

“Obi-love,” Qui-Gon tried, keeping a straight face and using a soothing tone, “You can tell me. It’s all right.”

 

Obi-Wan heaved a very dramatic sigh and stopped squeezing his eyes shut, but didn’t look back at Qui-Gon while he said, “Yes, it’s a thing. Go to your meeting!”

 

Qui-Gon laughed, cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek while he kissed the other, and then went.

  
  


The Council was fully convened once more, all but Yoda’s seat filled, and Yoda himself was standing in the middle of the room. Qui-Gon was sent in and took a spot far enough from the old master to convey his feelings. Yoda’s ears stayed firmly up as he spoke to the Council.

 

“Changes we have made recently,” Yoda began. “Good, we thought them! But what good is change, if lose ourselves to it, we do?”

 

“Many of us have had difficulty accepting the direction the Order has gone in,” Master Poof agreed. “But by our own laws were these changes made.”

 

“Good, evil--relative, these things are not!” Yoda snapped. “If lose control we do, then too good these changes are not. Annul them, we must!”

 

“Masters, with all due respect, that’s a terrible precedent to set,” Qui-Gon broke in. “You were all selected for your seats in the ways of our tradition, and the changes we--and yes, I in particular--have proposed were approved according to our code as well.”

 

“Perhaps we have lost our way, then,” Master Tinn proposed. 

 

“We’re growing in number, and by any metric we can devise, the majority of the Order is doing better now than before we began to institute these new laws,” Master Gallia replied. “If we as an Order are happier, are doing our job, are still in tune with the Force, how can we be wrong?”

 

“Because dangerous attachment is!” Yoda said, hitting the floor with his stick. 

 

“Knight Kenobi is the one in the healer’s ward,” Qui-Gon pointed out, and the silence following was thick.

 

Yoda looked at Qui-Gon, who looked steadily back, letting his hurt and betrayal at Yoda’s actions rise to the surface and be easily read, when Master Yarael Poof suddenly sighed.

 

“Master Windu,” he said heavily, “perhaps it is time.”

 

Mace’s face tightened, and he rested his forehead on his templed hands for a minute. He looked back up and his face was tired, lined with burden as he nodded once.

 

“Master Yoda,” Mace said, “It has been thousands of years since the Jedi Order was established. But in the last few years much has changed in the Order, and I can see now that there are some of you who will not be able to reconcile yourselves to it. We have seen as much in reports of harassment from bonded or wedded members, in the pushback against the Council’s mandates, and in your own actions today against Knight Kenobi over the adoption of an Initiate which you had not even applied for.

 

“I would like to invite you and any others who feel as you do to join the sister-Temple on Yavin IV,” he continued, and Qui-Gon’s jaw dropped. 

 

Schism. He was seeing a schism take place in real life. 

 

“Your transportation will be taken care of, and you will be provided supplies until such time as the Temple on Yavin indicates it is once again self-sufficient,” Mace finished as Yoda’s form slowly slumped. “We ask that you go peaceably, with our blessings, and cause no further trouble here.”

 

There was peace in the air now, the Living Force satisfied. Yoda felt it, and sighed.

 

“We will go,” he said simply, and bowed.

  
  


It ended up being a solid quarter of the Temple’s population who went with him. There were a fair number of humans, but also many Jedi who were of species that did not require the same kind of extensive social interaction and were not better for it. Masters Saesee Tinn, Eeth Koth, and Yarael Poof joined Yoda as well, but more surprising to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were the few that chose not to go.

 

“I’m allowed to change my mind, you know,” Master Rancisis said dryly when asked. He wasn’t asked again.

 

Another shock was Healer Teklit Gadrac. Obi-Wan caught the sense of her as she was waiting in line to board, and jogged up to speak with her.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered by her choice. They’d spoken often of his relationship, and she’d seemed so happy for him--she pushed him away from the line a little to speak privately.

 

“I have a lot of patients who are going to Yavin,” she told him, “and some of them were undecided on this, and a few even wanted to be on your side of the fight, Obi-Wan. No other mind-healers are going with them, and somebody has to.”

 

He knelt down and gave her a hug, feeling her squeeze back as hard as she could, and then let her go. She wrinkled her nose at him as she bared her sharp teeth in a grin.

 

“Make sure you find a healer you like, and tell Qui-Gon that where you’re concerned he has to do all my work now! Ha!”

 

The Temple was quiet the day after the mass exodus. The structure felt a little bigger and emptier than it had before, and at the same time lighter. Those who were in relationships could be seen in each other’s company in public, more comfortable now that most of their opponents had gone, and slowly the Order regained its stride.

 

They found they didn’t have as much of a budget problem as before, since the cost of living on Yavin was significantly cheaper than on prime Coruscant property, and so civilian families of Jedi were given one year to get their feet under them and begin contributing before it was enforced. 

 

Anakin was extremely enthused about being adopted by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, especially since he’d found out the whole fight in the sparring hall had been over him. When he heard that, Creche Master Bowwal confided, he accidentally burst all the lights in the dorm room and they’d had to be replaced. Qui-Gon privately vowed that first thing they’d work on was control, because he’d be damned if he spent the next ten years or so replacing light bulbs.

 

Maybe Anakin would grow up to be as tall as he was, he thought, and then he could do it instead.

 

“I wish Mom could be here to see this,” Anakin sobbed, snot and tears streaming down his flushed face, and Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly as the Force whispered.

 

On his next free day, Obi-Wan went down to Dex’s with quite a bit more cash in hand than he ought to be wandering Coruscant with, and asked him for a favor.

 

EPILOGUE

 

The weeks flew by and turned into months, then years, and at the age of twelve Anakin was apprenticed to Master Windu. He moved in with Mace and Master Gallia and their son Marc, who was still an Initiate but showed a lot of promise. 

 

Obi-Wan got a call one day after Anakin had moved out, and suddenly he was pulling boots on, his cloak, and shoving Qui-Gon out the door. Qui-Gon, who rarely saw this sort of hurry from his husband, decided he’d better cooperate or be left behind.

 

They walked quickly as they could to the landing platform, where Anakin and Master Windu met them, looking curious but confused.

 

“Years ago, I asked Dex to track down your mother,” Obi-Wan began without preamble. “They found her. She’ll be here today, free, she’s perfectly fine, Ani, don’t--” Anakin flung himself at Obi-Wan, crushing him close and sobbing like he had that day when he was five and he’d been told he was wanted, he was loved, he was going home--Qui-Gon’s strong arms pulled them both in and held them, supported them while Anakin had his breakdown and Obi-Wan soothed him. 

 

When the tears were spent and Anakin was in control of himself again he let Obi-Wan go, but not even his Master said anything about how close he stood to his fathers. It was a new Order, after all, and Mace understood that with the support of his family, he’d integrate this new change into his life and be stronger for it.

 

When her shuttle arrived, Shmi Skywalker stepped out and away from the loading zone, only to stop as she spotted her long-lost son.

 

“It’s you,” she said, and then ran forward to hold him. “Oh, I can feel you, you haven’t changed a bit--”   
  


It was all tears and physical affection for a while, and when they’d expended it for the moment they went inside, and Master Windu took himself home to spend some quiet time with his wife while Anakin and Shmi went with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

 

All three Jedi took turns telling her about Anakin’s life, and she soaked up every detail like a desert plant does rain and then blooms. Obi-Wan made them all tea when they got in, and they sat for hours on the sofa, trying to catch up ten years in a day.

 

When Anakin yawned a fourth time in five minutes, Qui-Gon said, “I think it might be time for a break, Ani.” 

 

He looked like he might argue, anger flashing in his eyes for a moment before he closed them and breathed it out, loosening his shoulders purposefully. Then he looked over at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and said, “Please don’t let her go.”

 

“We won’t, darling,” Obi-Wan reassured softly, “we’ll make sure she’s settled. Go on back and get some rest, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Lady Skywalker, there are many unoccupied apartments still in the Temple,” Qui-Gon said, “would you like to choose one? There is no cost.”

 

“Is there one close to Anakin?” she asked, and Anakin beamed as Obi-Wan showed her a map. 

  
  


By the time the Battle of Naboo came around, the Order was nearly completely recovered from its split, with its numbers growing quickly now that Jedi were encouraged to love and support one another. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were on assignment on Alderaan at the time, and Master Windu and Knight Skywalker were assigned. 

 

Anakin became known as the Sithkiller when he slew the Sith apprentice, Darth Maul, and so there was no title given to him when Chancellor Palpatine revealed himself to be Darth Sidious--and was summarily dispatched. 

 

It was curious in a way, that it happened so; Anakin felt a shiver after he killed Darth Maul, as though he were stirring the ashes of his own pyre, and again but more intensely after his victory over Darth Sidious. Somewhere, in the could-have-beens of the past, this had not happened, and Anakin suspected until his dying days that he should be grateful.

 

And he was. His fathers left him a great legacy: the ability to love, and to love without fear. Padme Naberrie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on, and he thanked the Force daily that she agreed to marry him. And then, to have children--! Such blessings.

 

Liakarra and Jowpirr, his godparents, agreed to be his children’s godparents as well, and he knew they would be well protected. Luke and Leia’s grandfathers spoiled them unabashedly rotten, and then claimed “grandchildren were before our time; we don’t know what we’re doing.” 

 

(Anakin snorted when he first heard that line. Obi-Wan Kenobi never went into anything without a plan, and Qui-Gon Jinn had raised enough Padawans to know better.)

 

Centuries later, after all their bodies had burned on their funeral pyres and their descendants--both of blood and training lineage--kept busy saving the galaxy, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s legacy remained. The Order thrived, where once it might have perished, and the Light remained.

 

All because of a cold day on a cold planet, and a shared sleeping bag.

**Author's Note:**

> SO, SO many thanks go out to so many people for this! This is officially the longest piece of fiction I've done since I stopped writing years ago. Thank you sanerontheinside, robinasnyder, urbanspaceman, and punsbulletsandpointythings for all the cheerleading and encouragement (and for letting me babble on at them in a frenzy as this story gripped me tight and held on for several months). Thanks also to sanerontheinside and Mystery Beta for their thorough job editing and making sure I spelled Wookiee correctly (a mistake I shan't make again). And thank you to everyone who has read, kudos'd, and especially commented or reblogged the stories in this series! 
> 
> To think, it all began with SOMEBODY'S "huddling for warmth" prompt. (saner. I'm looking at you.)


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